I can't without that feeling

Because it keeps me numb

I gulp it down until I choke

Because it keeps me dumb

I love emotional blunting

Swallowing all my emotions

Keeps my air going

But I'm just going through those motions

Addicted to the numbness

That brings a synthetic pleasure

To my carved on smile

That I can never measure

what does it mean

to be clean?

the scars on my wrists

have faded.

i've been

clean

for years.

but i am still

haunted

by the desire.

what does it mean

to be clean?

am i truly clean

if i let my gaze linger

too long

on broken glass?

the scars on my wrists

have faded

and every day

i debate

replacing them.

is that

clean?

or am i trapped

in a new

addiction?

what does it mean

to be clean?

addictions are never cured

only managed,

and i'll wait

for it to return

in the

(not so)

distant future.

The fabric of space

And time

It bends

Around the weight

The desire, the need

The obsession

If the Universe is consciousness

And will makes it so

Then this craving...

This...need

This, maddening desire

It falls into you

Every time

'Till death

'Round the sun I'll go

To you I shall return

Down

Down...

Into the core

Oblivion

They peel through my iced surface, like a fiery sensation gasping to take my next breath.

They give me hints of pleasuring peace, as I long for these intriguing moments.

They cause me to have an inner vibration that speak to me, so fluent.

They are an addicting service making me a hot mess in distress.

They are those calm gazing eyes that are secretly melting me.

What would it be like

to not need validation

to walk through life

able to live

just knowing people care

to sit alone in my room

and not have this sense of dread

that i mean nothing to everyone

that i am the extra in everyone else's stories

what would it be like

to not fill dead space

with technology and noise

to drive in silence

safe with my thoughts

just knowing people care

to take a walk at night

afraid like all the other girls

who listen to kidnapping stories

instead of knowing i would never be taken

I taste the bitter sweet

of life surrounding me—

drowning in these thoughts—

like icy waters crashing—

crushing—splashing through my sanity.

I hear fallen memories— hitting-hurting-flirting with my mind—aching to be played again.

Vile drinks—smoke rings flying through the air— in the trash—

in my bedroom— laughing—falling—screaming—until it all fades away and I am

left to think.

Broken shards of glass, scattered—shattered— clattering through my mind. On the ground-crying.

Whispers— they last through the night—sweet words—

running— running away from you in circles— an endless pattern.

I can taste the sweet chaotic fragrance of my tears on my pillowcase.

How would it be if I could live

Without having this addiction?

Perhaps I'll be indestructive,

Or am I inventing fiction?

My life might be so different,

if I weren't so dependent.

If I was able to breath deep,

not in need ev'ry now and then,

but there's no human that can keep

and stand without some oxygen.

I know it's bad

I know it hurts

I know it doesn't work

But I still can't stop myself

It's so much easier when it's a non-action

To forget, to go without

Pain resides in my whole body

I shake and fall down

No energy to get back up

The reasons are worst of all:

'I don't actually need this'

'I just need to lose a bit more'

'I can go just a little longer'

'Do you deserve it?'