anchor

How does one control affectations

Around those who have little limitations

Persuasions of your worth

Become a constant chore of every conversation

Confrontations about just who you are and what you want

Set the temptations for white lies and black tie impersonations

Pretending your true colours aren’t just grey and bruised

But black and white

So you have some formality when self-righteous rebuts come to mind

follow around the heartbeats

You walk and wait and wish for

Wistful words but it’s more

Concerning you don’t know who you are.

You follow around the heartbeats

Of elevators ascending

And trail behind crowds that part.

+-

It’s being dead and alive at the same time

Attempting to quantify

The contents of my mind

despair with a typewriter

Entry #2 – 14/4/2016

She is an ocean.

Of regret and despair but rarely projects emotion outside of contentment and care.

 

She is a hotel.

Hosting demons bound by rope behind locked doors, while she wrestles with hope on the basement’s bloodstained floors.

(don’t) go away. (don’t) leave me alone.

go away
please
but listen to what I don’t say
not what I create
to make you feel okay
so you stop asking “how was your day?”
because every answer I could give would give away

I don’t want to be heard. I want to be listened to.

I don’t wish for much more than for the ability to express

Thoughts that need to be addressed

Sometimes it’s my fear, others it’s my self-detesting

Obsessing

Over insecurities

Regressing to who I used to be

basement boxes

I often wish I could stop

The endless words and thoughts

They pile up like basement boxes

Until I feel I’m something I’m not, this

Isn’t me

This does not constitute what I’ve seen

falling further

 

I’m grasping at things that don’t exist

Holding thoughts like knives to my wrists

Checking if I resist

But my mind insists