habit
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Stillit sits there, bones and all, grounded in the monotonous planecolor unyieldingPoised to begin, possessing the knowledge of the end.
It’s when you sit down and your ass already hurts.
The lamp shade remains crooked, but you put it off
Until tomorrow and you start falling into that place;
The place without walls, but filled with floaty feelings,
As a tribute to my dad now one year clean.
To the bottom I go
When I’ll be back, I don’t know
I get lost on the way
To a place I’ll stay
I don’t want to be here1, 2, 3...No, this is not a note of thoughts on ending the life of mine14, 15, 16...No, this is not a cry for help.26, 27, 28...This is simply what it says, I don’t want to be here...This room is full of ambitious students.
I may sound insane,
but the voices I hear are not of a lunatic .
They are of someone suffering of OCD ( Obsession Compulsive Disorder).
"IT NOT CLEAN!"
When at a door a common thing
Is to knock your hand on that door.
But is that door meant to be knocked on?
Is your hand meant to knock?
Or is your hand meant to build that door
Traveling the heartless tunnel, where I must defend,
Where I must pace slowly,
The Raging Wolf snarls in my glittered path.
Muting the song of heartbreak with his temper,
His seductiveness and lust-
You said you’d let me be anything I wanted to be…
But I never could believe you
When you couldn’t let me be me.
“Don’t let them play soccer or football until they’re in college!”
