#userapollonic

how do I explain that we are infinite?

I'd like to cleanse myself from it and watch it get pulled down the drain. I'd like the wind to take it from me wipe it straight out of my throat. I'd like to burn it up in flames soak it with more gasoline. instead I sit inside this cave... and I stare at it and wait... for it to bury me.

are you okay?“    sometimes when i’m alone i rip apart a piece of white paper into fourths, eighths, sixteenths, just for a semblance of control.   sometimes my breath catches in my throat for no reason other than it doesn’t see the point in rising out of my lungs.   sometimes when i’m in the shower i just lie down and dream that it’s all an ocean, and the waves will sweep me away.   sometimes i stare at my hands, and trace the lines etched in them. heart, love, life - it’s all in the hands, just the hands.   sometimes my feet just grind to a halt in the middle of a crowded sidewalk and i just look around and wonder why.   sometimes i feel like the sky is scraping against my scalp and maybe that’s why i always turn around, but there’s no one there.   sometimes i feel a ringing in my ears like the vestiges of some old argument, and i wonder what i could have done.   sometimes there’s not enough. sometimes there’s too much.   but always, there’s something building and breaking and churning and roaring and shattering and collapsing and tumbling and the dust is rising, rising, rising, and oh god what do i do what do i do what do i -   "i’m fine, why do you ask?