Good Poems. Better Crack...... Enjoy The Show...

Trying to not get lost in my misery.

Around the clock, is an epiphany.

How many Hello's until my heart breaks.

I didn't define the line and you can't help but snap.

Snap my lines in two, three, four.

Snap at me and stomp the floor.

I'll keep trying, you'll keep lying.

You hate to try and i really wanna die.

Dad.

Only, so far it's hit a ceiling.

Only so far to go before everything reaches a break.

What should i do when I'm shaking.

What do i do when i need something.

I'm made of glass and I'm breaking.

The algorithm changed me.

Tried to mix me up.

I can see the algorithm changing.

Rearrange me.

The epitome of a canvas.

In whatever way my knife behaves.

And the implications that, has.

The stricter i am the more it sinks in.

The more vile it becomes.

The little monsters come only to win.

The more i seek to numb.

The ending always sours.

The taste lingers in my lips.

Acid and salt pervert me.

The hope of sweetness keeps me together.

I can't think with you inside my brain.

I can't live with this much insane.

I made myself bury you.

I wish it was different, i wish i could marry you.

I made myself bury you.

The only way to keep you is to let you be free.

Hope you someday find the path to me.

I doubt it.

I hate me.

You should too.

So many lost loves and none of it was true.

So I'm once again, cutting my skin, to forget the sting you leave within.

Because nothing feels like home, more than love, or the piteous pit, i love to sit in.

It is my only talent.

I can touch them and scrape them up.

Cutting brings me balance.

Feel me like i do and you're in too deep.

Cut me like i do, I'll fall asleep.

Standstill, taking pills, doesn't work, at its worst.

And if i keep it up, I'll end up inside the hearse.

Timelines.

FDP

FDP

The last thing i felt, before closing my eyes, is cold.

Cold in my skin, in my muscles; cold in my blood and bones.

The way out is always cold.

According to nobody.

As if, if i wanted, i could just let it go.

That it's just arbitrary sadness.

But it isn't though; you know.

THE OTHER ME.

My eyes see certain words in certain colors, only sometimes however and sometimes they shift their fonts.

I want to rip them out of my head.

It isn't a gift; I'd rather be dead.

New fresh blood; i hope that i survive them.

My senses won't stop even when i deprive them.

In the chamber with my thoughts.

The flowers smell too sweet.

The skin is just for show.

Wouldn't it be neat.

If everyone could know.

The world is not the world.

My trees grow back weird.

The valleys get deeper, every year.

Blood can't save you like water.

I wish i saw anything like you could.

I wish i could breathe the correct air.

I wish, i wish, i wish, and nothing every time.

Circles.

Circles.

Circles.

Stitched to the side of my mind.

Derealization (do not try this at home)