Author: S p u n





Emerald anesthesia. | Passionate disaster.

Mind floral blooming wilted. Hesitant forms catch the chill. Somber lying high.

And this is even worse. The lies pounding down upon me.

Never just placed around me. Scattered.

Included contact. I think I'm catching on. The only interruption. You'd listen.

Kept in a tiny little box with a tiny little voice telling me to keep my stretched treasure

Nodding responsive That would never happen to me. It's never fair.

I want it to stop. Could I stand to stop?

Seize the angry wind. It's screaming at the world tonight.

Ought to walk away. I can shut down. I can't shut the window.

Wrapped in soothing until it wears off. Now I'm out and it isn't my fault.

I'd rather certain aspects vanish than vanish it all. And shine for that moment.

I'd rather erase parts of days. Than disappear myself. Linger invisible.

Hours. Light them on fire and watch the ashes snore and smolder.

Yield the tolerance noise. Normal words swim out of my throat. And I whisper inside my head the whole time.

Obfuscated creations simply proof you didn't ruin me but my scars aren't healing

It's been so long waiting. All this sorrow tempting. Who'd bother to caress it. Notice.

Ultimate wrong. Mind twin. Confide.

I remember the number. And it says it smudged on paper to talk if I need to. Sharp point. It's gotten to a point.

Some haunting flashback. I want out. It's jammed. Trapped.

Multiple betrayals. I think I'm standing in a brilliant corner crying. I couldn't say how often this happens.

Oscillating. To pretend I'm distracted.

Knotted tension I feel the snakes slithering and hissing. Behind me. I'm facing North.

Exceptions because I'm exhaling. My secret I'm watching the clock.

Disengage euphoric charisma the whole thing is smashed to pieces.

Middle of the night. I could sleep on the list it's so thick. Dishonesty such brutality.

In isolation I have no feelings. I'd rather black out than glance in the mirror.

Yesterday's paper conforming shread six moments. Months.

Might be able to shake myself awake. A bad dream. They always seem this long anyway.

Should I slip away to maintain the steam never forgotten how I'm not singular in doing this

Elusion after eleven. It's anger and witness and everyone's the fucking same when you don't have roots

Try and make me stay. This life is quicksand I'm treading sinking quickly.

Highs are good solid basis depending on if I feel like rotting.

Even spinning fast a heart rate can't own my staircase. A while though. I'm tired of rising.