the-withered-writer - Tumblr blog

[the-withered-writer]

Crawling Through My Skin

It's like a monster latched onto my back.

Waiting for a weakness to make its attack.

It waits till I'm vulnerable, when I'm not intact.

And it waits till I'm empty, cus it's what I lack.

It's like a bug crawling through my skin.

It pokes at me like some needles and pins.

It tortures me like an itch while it stares and it grins

And it digs through me deeply when my skin is thin.

[the-withered-writer]

In a way, I am happy, or close to it.

I let in toxicity thinking I could handle it.

But I am not immune, for I fear my mistakes.

Yet I will still walk forward with every poision sip I take.

[the-withered-writer]

Part of the human experience is an inherent need to be loved and accepted. Loneliness is JUST as bad for your health as not eating is. Social interaction is a basic human necessity for survival. Sometimes people need to hear "I love you," "I care about you," or, "I like having you around." Simply expressing appreciation and love can save another human's life. In the case of feeling unloved, venting, saying, "I'm unlovable" over and over again only strengthens the belief because you're repeating it and receiving silence. They interpret silence, not as listening, but as a confirmation, expressing, "You're right. I don't even care enough to tell you otherwise."

[the-withered-writer]

Art, She Is

Her eyes had a poetic sense that inflicted chaos in my heart, And in a poetic sense, it reflected back to where it starts. Her eyes have been chaotic since afflicted by my heart, And I have been chaotic since subjected to her art.

[the-withered-writer]

The Black Diamond Cliché

I wish it didn't exist, this desire in my heart, Latched on like a cyst, ripping me apart. Yet still, I persist when she won't take part, In my occultist love of the black art. Planting her roses and painting them black, The flower's aromas attract the wolf pack. A moment's psychosis to swallow prozac, With both of us broken, we salt all the cracks. Is there a cure if I removed my veins? For something so pure, yet causes deep pains? Her name is secured in the left of my brain, A sinful allure that drives me insane. Carving an A in lovely black diamonds, I'm molded in clay with warnings of sirens. I love the cliche, I hear her in silence But to my dismay, her heart has no pilot.

[the-withered-writer]

"Sometimes people love you, but not the way you want them to. And that, my friend, is its own type of heartbreak - one that lingers like a dull ache."

- OUTSIDER

[the-withered-writer]

The Declaration of Repentance

The Bill of Rights and retired amendments, The cult's prosecutor and the raging defendant, Our ancestors came to the New World for independence, But watch the Republican party attempt to keep minorities dependent. The concept "Liberty and Justice for All," Can only be true once the conservatives fall. This nation needs to be deleted then reinstalled, Because everything we learnt in history class was false. America was built on genocide but we won't allow that ending, Yet the clutch of hate rages and kills, unrelenting. A blue force sings sirens and leads the tormenting, And they expect us to live in ignorance, pretending. This nation is a disappointment to the planet, When Republicans endorse the Holocaust on the camp's granite. Those that travel, those with talent, the GOP calls them maggots. So why does the party of Christians act so Satanic? No country stands nearly as divided as the United States, The country built on immigration now frowns upon those who migrate. Because even now, human beings are treated like real estate, Given an arbitrary value, sold like currency under the white's exchange rate, All under false pretenses of supposed intentions to federate. Fuck this country. I won't be herded like cattle nor will I be murdered in battle, 'Cause I'll never die for this country nor will I take my lies to the chapel. If love and freedom is evil, i'll gladly be the asshole, I'll gladly burn Eden and take the bad apple.

[the-withered-writer]

She sees herself broken, but I see her as whole, And that second I met her, for once I felt whole.

EGO

[the-withered-writer]

Everyone wants me to lie, to say I'm okay; so I'll push it down and wear a happy face.

EGO

[the-withered-writer]

“I Saw Growth After Death” (Drawn by me)

[the-withered-writer]

Maybe I don’t wanna be saved the trouble. Maybe I want the trouble. I haven’t wanted the trouble in a long time, but with you, the trouble doesn’t seem so troubling. I don’t know, I thought… I guess I thought you felt the same way.

Barney Stinson (via icametogetstoned)

[the-withered-writer]

I wanna start a new life already. This city has N O T H I N G to offer me other than stagnation, disappointment, and unhealthy decisions. I’m tired of feeling disconnected from the world and I shouldn’t spend my days wishing I was a bad person. I love California, but I need a completely different environment, outside of the lost nation we call America. I wanna move to Great Britain, an hour outside of London, and I’d take the tube to the city to work. I’d live alone and spend my days writing, smoking, and seeing historical sites and landmarks. Every day would be sweater weather and I’d get to spend more time in the rain. I don’t know, ever since I was around 6-7 years old, I’ve been drawn to London and felt some significance for a place I’d never even been to. When I finally got to go to London, I felt as though I fit in with the people more; most relieving was the fact that I didn’t have to engage in tedious small talk with everyone. Connecting with others, even strangers, on a daily basis is like a forced social norm in America and I did not feel that same pressure in Britain.

If I’m gonna feel alone, I might as well be physically secluded from everyone I’ve ever known as well. I want to live in a society where my inability to connect with others isn’t forced to have constant, meaningless interactions with everyone that walks by; Americans are superficial and only say what they THINK needs to be said. The weather in London is soooo much nicer than it is in California. Even the rainy and cloudy weather would have a positive effect on my mood. Plus, there isn’t the looming fear of earthquakes.

I just fucking need to get away and I can’t continue to let suicide be an option, much less the main option. I want better for myself and I want to live in the place I’ve dreamt about since I was a child.

[the-withered-writer]

Cold-hearted

Must I become the liar, must I earn from their mistakes Must they come so I can get mine and drain all there is to take Must I be blind to the woes of others and emotional headaches So I can get high off lust and fuck and watch love break?

[the-withered-writer]

When I met you, my heart filled with excitement. And now I feel empty, with every hope silenced.

EGO

[the-withered-writer]

They’ll say she spiraled out of control. And when she came back, she carried no shred of a soul.

OUTSIDERS

[the-withered-writer]

She didn't feel the same way so she let me go. But when I got up to walk away, she stood too close.

EGO

[the-withered-writer]

Just say how I feel? What's the point? What beneficial outcome could come from saying it out loud? We both know what I'm gonna say. We both know you don't feel the same. So don't make me say it. Please.

EGO