when I sit at the right end of the wrong number, I'll know it's you.

[thesorrow]

I'm tired of living in cycles, living in sporadic spurts of wrong to worse. I ride one ocean crest, crashing down into murky, midnight blue depths of depression. my good days are the ones where I struggle to stay afloat. there's no happiness, no felicity, no satisfaction in the equation of my days and nights. satiety is a pinhole in my perspective

Comments

[xpetitemortex]

that made my heart palipate w the quicksilver burning of twin words through my ventricles- and then ashes squeaking through my wrists. pain. why are you in such pain?

cutting. no.
heart attacks- no.
save all the razorblades and grey flesh for your writing.
do not let the disease carry over.

of course, sublimely written.
it makes me want to sleep in a poppy field.

ps- i brought up the strokes w the parentals, its possibly a go.
xoxoxoxo

[thesorrow]

I'm in such excruciating pain oh sweet petite. It's measured with each drawn breath. I don't have the luxury of living in sub-conscious throbs. everything's constantly lucid, piercing, stark and naked in it's poignancy. I wish nothing more for this night for an embrace, not a shoulder to cry upon. this night, for once, I feel no presence, no need for tears. this sorrowful boy merely wants the affirmation of flesh. just to know that everything will be okay. that everything will heal itself. these bones will heal themselves as the brown earth heals itself. this spirit will rise again as the sun rises each morning. this skin will glow anew and alive as the fireflies of autumn night.

I just want to be held, to know I'm accepted into the human fold. that it's okay to say hallelujah and rejoice in my humane infallibility. to have a beautiful person to laugh at regrets with. that is all.