my shoes
stop squeezing my toes
shoelaces pushing inside, itching my foot
cat hair covered shirt
don’t be so crooked
damn tag scraping at my neck
and one side tighter than the other
these pants
stop freezing parts of my leg
zipper pressed against my bending stomach
cuff digging into my ankles
twisting denim pulling my leg hairs
greasy hair
get out of my eyes
resting on my ears
looking like shit
blowing all over the damn place
I swear I’ll shave you all off
this humid fuckin’ air
get away from my skin
touching my nerves
testing my reflexes
invisibly intruding my house
controlling when I blink
and going into my mouth
painted walls
something’s off with you
the texture of the paint going this way and that
cracks in your corners
sloppy splatters in the floor
bumps that I don’t have to touch, they bother me
the length and width of the room they dictate
I should cover you up with posters
Every nuance feels so wrong now.
And all I’m doing is sitting here. I’m afraid to move because of it. Afraid of what else I’ll find bothersome.
my heart remains with her. which makes sense because i can’t feel it here. the numbness is a flood of nothing and the willingness to do anything that i once desired is dead. only responsibilities and muscling through days.
sharing things is impossible and being with the one person i truly love will never happen because of me or her or some fucking outside force or god or the easter bunny or WHO THE FUCK KNOWS. but one thing is certain and weighing on my chest like an anvil.
that love is not… love is not enough. even the most intense and swelling and inflating and ever-growing and solid and truthful and sincere and honest and unconditional love is not enough for some things.
if it is i am too weak and the love is not carrying me through it. maybe my sunuvva bitch mom and dad gave me a stupid fucking brain that is irreversibly fucked to no end.
or maybe im fucking normal, because i get along fine with everyone else ive ever met. who knows, who gives a fucking shit. i’m done beating myself up and i’ve started the alone process. somehow trying to figure out how to want things when i will never share them with her. somehow needing to want a future when it doesn’t include her. somehow trying to find meaning in a meaningless task. a beautiful thing such as life turned to a chore. what retarded creatures we are.
Everything would be okay if I could just get my breathe back. But instead I choke without her - my breath.
And I don’t blame you, you’ve had enough.
With all these empty promises and countless bluffs.
I don’t have disbelief for things I can’t see just because I’m an Atheist. I have disbelief in God because he’s a fairytale and the crutch that holds up the weak druggies. Thank God for God, because surely life is better than death - and without God, there might be death for the crutchless.
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