I am a over thinker
Usually at night all of my problems run to my head and hit me like a freight train
I can’t do anything about it because everyone is asleep
I can’t cry because they will hear me
I can’t scream either
Literally all I can do is lay there all numb bottling up my thoughts
Later it leads to me over thinking things that arn’t even true
That my mind is just making up
And I’m believing it
I start to get fusturated, mad, sad, wanting to hurt someone
But instead I hurt myself
I grab the sharp edge and […]
Tag:
Sharp Edge
I miss my hoodie and razor. maybe I don’t even have to cut. I just wanna hold you again, run my finger lightly over your sharp edge, feel my soft warm hoodie hiding the blood and scars under it. I’ve never missed anything so much. I’m sorry I left both of you in Virginia, so sorry. I’d give anything to be there with you….
Another lonesome night spent lamenting unknowable if’s and but’s. The walls are coming down, crumbling, slight cracks snake up from the ground, chips of plaster abandon there post and tumble hard, downwards. I sit, watching, and the last shudders of life drift out to rejoin the ether.
I sit and smile, an effect distilled from the pleasure of both watching this event and feeling it. I am a pathetic husk of a human being, an irretrievably broken man, endlessly pestered by apathetic and cowardly thoughts, of means to escape my open cage. I am institutionalized, I fear.
A throbbing vein mocks me as I contemplate a sharp edge. […]
the Watcher
The woodsmen, on this day as any other, dragged his found logs from the forest, on a small cart, into the village. Winter was coming and like his father before him he would need to gather a lot of wood to fend off the coming cold. He patted his children on the head and headed back into the dark cool forest for another load of wood. Deeper and deeper he searched for trees that had fallen and split so that he may break them with his hands and fill his cart. Deadfall wood was getting hard to find, his need was great but his […]
the Cutter
It feels a little tender at first, hot as blood rushes to greet the sharp edge of your relief.
You promised yourself you wouldn’t, but the pain is just to much, inside. If only you can find a balance, a balance between the lonely suffering of your internal hell and the sharp, clean, slice of your external shell. Deeper this time then ever before. You must dig deeper to let it out. Your inner hell, red in its anger, hot liquid in its trespass.
The blade slices, a dance of blood lights it’s way, your focus follows it, watching. You feel almost outside o […]