The darkness buried within my soul, has the capability to eat my mind whole.
The words that I try and speak the actions I try and keep, are in itself; pure beauty.
But are manifested with the dead aspects of insanity, twisted and cruel,
The meaning behind Edgar Allan Poe's workings of poetry and selected writing, that has found their way into our knowledge base of Jr high and high school English studies.
When my heart beats, it has two speeds.
1) Slow: A light tap, where I find difficulty to speak in full sentences, for my brain is lacking the speed it needs in order to complete them. And if I am to speak, it comes out slow, almost hard to follow, almost inaudible and lacks ability to reach potential of full meaning.
2) Rapid: Like a car reaching its top allowable speed. Where thoughts come one after the next, where there’s no such thing as a red light, but my god I wish there was a yellow light in place. For my words seem to get misplaced and mixed with the next , where thought process don’t finish but just start one aftee the another , right after the climate drops below zero. Where it honestly seems like my heart is pounding out of my chest, overworking itself, to the point of near death.
The darkness buried within my soul, my heart, and my mind.,
have the ability, to take over everything I have.
One step at a time.
Either all at once,
or slowly, gradually, over a long aching time frame.
I slow my breathing, I organize my thoughts, I reach for the clutch and aim for a destination of self healing where only I am capable of reaching. For I myself choose the destination, and I myself can control my internal intiragations to come to a point of peace and understanding where the severity of the situation decreases by a pleasant pace man- made to help retrieve my full capability, that the speed of my thoughts can't interrupt or contribute too.
For I myself am a human, and there's nothing I can't do that i set my mind too. Just like everyone else, problems and situations arise where it's hard to take in or hard to control your reactions due to the adrenalin that pumps through our veins in times of confusion and uncertainty; excitement and fear about an outcome that we can't fathom, but the deep meaning of our thoughts on such things happening are hidden behind the pump of blood through our veins, keeping us alive even when we don't want them too.
The telltale heart describes the floorboards; which resembles the heartbeat. But the house I'm under, is no longer in my pocession. And the the air that flows through the kitchen to the bedroom, the spring drift created by my breathing. The blinds are open, and so are my eyes, as I witness them living. In the space I am in, is no place to to make assumptions. But I'm wondering if someone else is being chosen, to accompany me, in my home which keeps keeps me living.
When my heart beats
I remember your voice,
I remember my own,
I remember the soothing aspects of your moans and grones, and the calming way you send me to sleep, by saying my name like im still of importance,like im just somebody, and not just anybody. But everything that describes meaningful, and full of prosperity.
Reminding me, I am human. And we all make mistakes, we all have our concerns on ourselves, in this case; the understanding of the hidden meaning of pain that gives us a title labelled on our grave; and a sign of understanding to the controling of my aspects I overlook, that continuously drill themselves into my brain each time I look past them; I go to shake your hand; and introduce myself by name. And the pains intensity of the drill grows again, stomg, demanding to be heard, for I forgot to mention; I'm not alone, for the deep meaning of my unintentional screaming; there's more than just one individual lingering these halls.
She doesn't like to be unintroduced, unannounced. Once again there's a figure on the top floor of the house, tapping her nails in antanticipation, waiting for her turn to be able to walk the halls; to contribute to her long lasting impression of insanity and dvevelpong her fantasy into a reality for to exist in, to get revenge on those who have lost themselves to an identity unlike herself. Jealously arises arises every time I have a moment of compassion and connection to the person person I'm in in love with. And a sudden pain in in my chest, tells me shes slowly creeping in, learning her way to take my life in her own hands, and I'm afraid she'll win. For my hold on reality is becoming weak, and she's feeding on my open confessions, learning love first firsthand. Learning to become human, and and I'm slowly losing my ability to control such such things such things as breathing.
The darkness buried in my soul, has the capability to eat my mind whole,
The darkness that lingers In the corners of my mind, eats away at words and phrases, connecting themselves into my very self, and I'm unable to find a method to drown them outI