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watching yourself spiral into a mental breakdown while knowing you can't stop it is a different kind of heartbreak

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You do not go poking a shovel into the festering sores of the past. The bugs that litter, and crawl have their own names- the gravestones made from every rock dropped into your gut. Every pitch of dread - recorded during your stay in the past. You toss and turn, the worms offer you a tale. Sweet words that only suffocate further, dirt that aches to be in lungs, nails that ache to scratch into the oak coffin - and mouth that bleeds to scream.

You look- dead. Besides that, any girl at the morgue thinks you're pretty. With hollowed eyes, deadened skin and yet your hair remains as soft as the day it was made. Spun from a web of lies.

The men with the keys remembers how you yelled in the coffin. They empathize, as you rung the bell yelling;

"I AM STILL ALIVE-".

Yet why does your heart not beat, why do the worms welcome you so intimately- why does the reaper greet you as an old friend.

Rest in peace.

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I gave my name hoping you - a sweet succubus could keep it. You wrapped it around my heart tugging, it with a leash like intent.

I keep following- a burning man who loves you too sweetly.

You flutter your eyes and once more I die for you. It burns to deep. I cursed your name but all that came out are eternal vows..

My love remain mine- eternally please.

I cannot do it without you, life is pain without your ash kisses.

A sweet suffering you "offer". Yet this barbed leash is all I ache to "own". A tug of war of our sweet love.

Because I know deep down, I don't own you. Deep down I know you'll fade the instant I blink.

The instant I forget you. A sweet dream I bleed to experience.

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A tight strung woman, whose back never bent or crooked, smiles at you.

Bringing you into her fold. A cruel lady who knows death like a sworn promise on her corpse lips.

She loves- yes. But at what cost?

She tells you saccharine sweet things. Words you ache to hear. It burns to the touch. Promises that are.. too much. Your greed and hunger aches for more. It scorches your cheeks and ears - an ember unleashed.

A broken man, bent and crooked.

He's never once stood straight, knees bowed obediently. A marble statue only fit to look down. A gorgon given life. A promise broken.

So in the garden he remains..

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The panoramic view of my life is short. As most things in my life are; I wake, I eat, I sleep and it repeats...

I wake, my eyes barely open, my lids sown shut by pure exhaustion. Sleep hadn't been kind nor will it ever. Dreams pass me by, yet I remain in a void. Flitting in and out like a cardiac arrest patient.

I eat, body requires nourishment, i choke down food that tastes ashes. It's a robotic gesture meant to appease my inner gods, who are far too cruel to let me remain a patient.

I sleep, once more the void calls- and I like an unfaithful lover, I pick up. Heart in my throat, a despair lulling me into her embrace.

A remembrance of a times past.

I repeat, a mechanical solution of a painful degree. My body holds on until it will not. Until random chance or illness decides otherwise. Until my genes decide it fit to slay me by natural selection. Until my breathing quiets and the dirt swallows me whole - unhinging its soft yet freezing maw, into a pit more known to me - than my mother.

And even then, I am warm.

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[crowfeatures]

I hate how it feels like my mental health leaks and ruins every little thing-

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unfortunately i actually AM impossible to love and its not just all in my head

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Sometimes it feels like you've lived your whole life in a house that's always a little bit on fire. Like it's usually just in one room and you make sure to wet the walls around it so it doesn't spread and that usually works. You were expected to take more responsibility over fire containment when you were like seven because it's not like you can expect your parents to always be 100% on guard about making sure the whole house doesn't catch fire, and you figure that's just how things are like.

And sometimes as a kid you visit your friends' homes and some of then whisper to you - grimacing with embarrassment - about how they're not supposed to tell anyone this, but there's a whole room in their house that's currently on fire. And you're like yeah it's ok I'm not supposed to tell people about the way our house is a little bit on fire all the time, too. And then you visit some other friend's house and there's no trace of fire anywhere, and you think "wow, these people are really good at hiding their house fire."

And one day you show up to work like "hey sorry I'm late, I forgot to wet the walls before going to bed last night and my whole house burned down", and you're startled by the way people react, acting like that must be the worst thing that has ever happened to you. And you're just like "chill, it's been years since the last time this happened, and it wasn't even that bad this time", and that just makes people more shocked, acting like that's the weirdest and most concerning thing they've ever heard anyone say, which only confuses you more.

And then someone tries to explain to you that people aren't supposed to have an ongoing house fire. Most people actually never experience a house fire in their lives. Like not even once. Not even a little bit. The normal amount of having your house be currently on fire is zero.

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I think all the lonely women and men, have their particular symphonies. A note, they cannot hear.

They look for wholeness, but forget holiness. Their hearts following a rapid beat of a dumb animal who seeks love in the most foolish of ways.

It asks to root into a tree that follows the river. A river that holds decay and death. A river that no one cares to clean.

Polluted love is all you'll get because you never look at the trail of death and disease. Because you never ask where these bones come from.

You'd rather die than to know. Because for you, the ability to play cards of ignorance gives you peace. A rot that'll slowly take you, is better than the sharp unyielding truth.

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I told you your skin knows you, it fits like a glove till it doesn't. Your wrinkles a map through your life, a voyage through that which words fail to mention. Your eyes glimmering pearls to a life that'll only be written. A soft song that is heard at the end of a life.. an inheritance wrought by greed and unkindness despite the matter of you..

You're gone.

Life will remain, but you will be gone.

And all the children playing won't know it, the dogs sniffing at the bushes, wag their tails in ignorance. The clouds are never in the sky on this day. A sun will shine on your grave.

But I will not forget.

I will not forget.

Even during the folly of life, and the sweet budding of roses. You'll remain in my heart.

I will be your funeral. Your darkened day, your sweet somber silence.

When people ask for you, I will not lie. I will cry and sob and weep and die.

Because you will remain.

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I washed my hands off you, yet tar remained, I disguised it as a birthmark - to make people love it. Despite the scent of desolation and decay that'd cling skintight. I wore perfumes like it protected me from the memory of you. I am unclean even if my lovers tells me I am the opposite.

I fish in a lake of dreams, and others feast joyfully from my catch. But I cannot get past the rot which lingers in it. The fish eyes bulging and begging. Mirroring myself, an illness; I am a plague bearer. A rat in my own home. My shoes do not fit anymore.. the stink has taken over.

The stink has taken over.

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It's a cruel joke to let humans wander with sentience while our feet bleed death and misery. We wallow in our heads to a drum beat of decay and the gods wonder to what end..

A beast to slaughter to feed a small family. A temporary joy, for a permanent problem. A blindness that doesn't fill any bellies- and rot that grows in a liver so unclean.

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To dance with strings strangling my wrists, a silly waltz for your personal amusement. A man less than divine - commands you, and a doll no matter their thoughts.. obeys.

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Lowkey I feel the worst the closer I am to mine

I'm in so much pain and I need to be unconscious immediately or I'll kms

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Everything I've ever wanted is out of my reach so I've learned to stop wanting due to the fear of disappointing myself further.

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🤗 i dont like this emoji. this is not a hug to me. this is someone doing condescending jazz hands in my general direction when i am in need of affection. not comforting.

🫂 i love this emoji. this is a hug. we are hugging and its nice. and as a special bonus they appear to be my old friends from the msn messenger logo? very comforting.