(no subject)
one am and riding the bus in circles.
i have to remember to breathe slowly and evenly or i'll start to show sings of life again. i'll start to cry again and i hate that, it always makes me feel too real.
too helpless, full of anger and anxiety with nowhere to go from there.
so i ride the bus to get off where nothing is familiar.
here-in sits the comfort of traveling like this; a bus ride in the late evening hours is akin to hiding under you bed from your mind.
but something's off, there's light, bright as the horror of the sun and you start to notice everything you've ever loved and discarded laying strew collecting dust.
and slowly slowly you can feel the gorge rise as you begin to fear them.
so you get off
and wander, willing something anything to happen
daring death to come and walk with you a while.
i'd give anything to be able to fuck death
only so i could steal his robe after, while he's smoking a cigarette.
and to find you, in my new life
in closing: does death worry about being nude?
i have to remember to breathe slowly and evenly or i'll start to show sings of life again. i'll start to cry again and i hate that, it always makes me feel too real.
too helpless, full of anger and anxiety with nowhere to go from there.
so i ride the bus to get off where nothing is familiar.
here-in sits the comfort of traveling like this; a bus ride in the late evening hours is akin to hiding under you bed from your mind.
but something's off, there's light, bright as the horror of the sun and you start to notice everything you've ever loved and discarded laying strew collecting dust.
and slowly slowly you can feel the gorge rise as you begin to fear them.
so you get off
and wander, willing something anything to happen
daring death to come and walk with you a while.
i'd give anything to be able to fuck death
only so i could steal his robe after, while he's smoking a cigarette.
and to find you, in my new life
in closing: does death worry about being nude?