what holds me up is gonna burn me in the turnaround

I had a dream where I went to your room
and I cut off my hand
and I let go of the blood
what were you thinking?
and were you just tired?
I was holding your hand while
you pushed the wheel forward all the way
falling like an aeroplane

Everything will wait as long as it has to it and it will

Call off all of your bets.

Ironically ironic

"You're trying so hard not to be what you already are, and that's okay because I really like who you are."

my body is a cage that keeps me from dancing with the one i love

My mind is a series of disconnected wires. I don't make any sense to anyone but myself, I can not explain my actions so I make up an excuse that I am crazy, I am not. But it's easier to just say that rather than try to rationalize what I do and say. I recognize what you are saying, but why should I have to hold back? Why shouldn't I be allowed to make these actions to say what I feel, am I not entitled? I am plagued by an illness I can not control, it controls my mind, but mostly my equilibrium. I just want someone to understand what this feels like, I wouldn't wish i t on anyone I just can't keep trying to go through this by myself. I am not producing as much blood as I should be, because I keep losing blood everyday. I wake up clutching my sides, I want to scream but I still get up, my daily routine is starting to take so much out of me. I go to bed at night more exhausted than I've ever been, and still...

My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten, that don't mean you're forgiven
I'm living in an age
Still turning in the night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight
I'm living in an age
Realizing I'm dancing
With the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're still next to me
My mind holds the key
Set my spirit free

breathing patterns

This feeling of when it gets colder my heart gets warmer is comforting. It starts to let people back in, and I annually break down every wall I've built around myself. I make realizations about those who I thought would be my pillars, but have turned out to be just ruins. I can not lean on them any longer. "I got it, you got somewhere else to be." After last night I can look past it, I've looked past everything I felt like you were sleeping next to me again. Your breathing lulling me to sleep. My eyes watered from the early morning light seeping into the blinds, and because I was/am completely content. It's the ambient music that I fall back into step with, it's the coexistence, and it's my mind playing tricks on me. Your bare face, god I haven't seen it in so long, and you looked taller. Just sitting on my couch watching tv and talking with your best friend. You never once looked at the candles, or the glaring screen, or his beard, I was the focus point. The lines on your face will always give you away.

Begging you to wait for a minute by the wall where your creeping feet have never been before

I didn't think regressing so much was even possible, I am surrealism. My knees have begun to buckle. Atmospheres and layers consume. Swallowing me whole and if I cross my fingers, they will spit out just the bones. Jelly bones. Tire wastes. Blood thinners. I do not deserve your perfect rows of white enamel, or your lanky stature, certainly not the words stemmed from years of pouring over books. No one knows how to communicate anymore, pick up the phone tell me about your brittle bones. Tell me about your scandalous lackluster friends, oh wait you only make contact when you want to complain. But I am moving backwards, my feet slipping up in the wax floors I slide down the halls, regress, suppress, repress. Some city scape, I'm not easily impressed. the pressure and the feeling as if walls are moving in closer. Flickering candles, wind, graphite pencils and a painting of produce. Dark hair, dark eyes, moccasins for shoes. Idealism, I will not you let in. Realism. Age, numbers, secrets, organs. It's my tennis's shoes fault.

Ageless beauty

How is it that I've lost the ability to cry? Is it the commonplace of funeral homes and churches in my life beginning to numb me? I can look into an open casket and feel nothing for someone who I am related to, someone who loved my family with all their heart. I cannot cry even though the numbers of the first generation has dwindled to two. This is hard, not being able to feel. I've become frigid much like the air outside that dries out my eyes and skin. You didn't look 89 Polly, not at all. Not a wrinkle in your skin, your hair perfectly curled, everyone in the room was jealous of you. Stephen talked about how he's had seven funerals in four months it's a wonder he can barely focus at work. And I wonder has this security blanket around my waist been induced by the depression and stress that has become a burdening dark cloud that follows me everywhere I go. I can't bare it any longer, old habits have weaved their ways back into my thoughts, into my routine. Ruining everything I've worked so long and hard for. The priest read the eulogy and he read something about Pauline meeting god at the gates and he would judge her, like Osiris. The Osiris being the inserted contribution my brain added after remembering a particular question from my art history exam. Anyway, more importantly that we couldn't plead the fifth because we had no excuses we are to be judged. And I remembered saying how much in my atheist angst I had an agnostic outrage. I yelled through to receiver about how much who ever up there was punishing me and my whole family by taking away everyone that's near and dear to us. Friends and most importantly family. I understand no one lives forever I've always accepted that but it this all could've happened over a longer stretch of time it would've been easier on us. On all of us. Does anyone understand how unbearable it's been for the majority of my family to go to the same graveyard 5 times in the past four months. It's all so surreal. AT LEAST I KNOW YOU TRIED.