FunctionalBreathing and waiting for some type of battle to unfold
This direction is futile
This direction is nothing
Lies upon lies
With the hope of reality and wanting
The nigh is near and all is calm
Adamant and approachable
I wait
Manuals are providedFatigue and loneliness become addiction. I'm losing myself in all of my imperfections; every scar, crack, and pound. My eyelids are heavy, my breathing off beat, and I'm 'okay' with that. It is at this point when I can truly grasp the feeling of that long lost sugar high, those forced adrenaline rushes, that cheap satisfaction. When did I take these feelings for granted? Although none of you understand what I am talking about, well at least not in my way, it always seems to make it a little less pathetic typing it down. Therein lies another enigma. Is it not giving these emotions a little more power with these desperate words of passiveness?Manuals are provided
willinginconsequential to what i am really experiencing. a life i don't remember really living. it leaves me in a state of disconcertion i am too modest, i think too 'smart' for my own good am i the hero? the friend? the nerd? haha oh, I am nothing yet again, another late night craving that which i can not have systematically i fall into a trap twirling and twirling until finally I STOP dizzy day dreams whimsical notions and nicotine filled lungs keep me going do you challenge me? do you think me not worthy? i am not phwilling
DubitableSerenity? Not so much as chaos. Conform. I think not. Inevitable. Understanding? No, clarity. Same? Wrong. You know not of what I speak. I know not what I speak. You know me better than I know myself. You have no idea. I am not kind. I am not weak. Sadistic? Yes. Cold? All the time. Don't pretend. You're only wounding yourself.Dubitable
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