quiet words

how do I tell people I don’t need them to protect me 

things really be fallin’ apart out here

smoke and mirrors, knives in the dark--I’m so tired of being led around for naught.

to live life like an open wound.

I’m so exhausted.

can you imagine getting second therapist to talk about your sessions with your first therapist? that’s meta-therapy, right there. 

the more time passes, the greater my fear that I have done too little, too late.

I will be okay.

nothing changes. nothing stays the same.

let it die, even if only for us to lay fresh flowers and move on.

I wish the end was not so explosive I wish it was the whimper, not the bang because I know that after the bang, the whimpers will linger even longer still.

worry is no boiling, bubbling, jittery unease it’s the shot of cold the immediate freeze as your heart stops.

words frothing in my mouth bubbling in my throat boiling in my stomach

you know you’re done when you scream into the abyss and nothing dares scream back

I can’t help thinking all these things I don’t mean.