insignificance

Beautiful skies with cottony clouds, precious oceans in choreography au natural, looking up as i choke on the winds of my own insignificance in this world-lacking aim, lost purpose, worthy of this minus life in this invisible yet expansive hell. Alone. My world crumbles each time i crash under the weight of my insignificance, concealed in this veil of indifference i now wear. No peace just agony in my gorgeous pseudo scenic world. 

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.pour-ing.with-in.

It’s there headed my way almost here and i can’t help but fear what scene is next. And. I. Can’t. Stop. It. My thoughts or things like it gather mingle and part ways all out of reach far beyond my limited capabilities to process the whole thing not to mention how my depression and anxiety clutter it all contaminates the air that now I can’t breathe… It’s here and i cant help but fight it halfway cuz fighting 100% would feed the clusterofallfucks with anger plus 100% of useless it’ll render me. And. Before. I. Know. It’s filled me up and the weather’s all cloudy part rainy though silence is loud but always pretty though a sky so scarred its about split open as it feels my lust with silky hands.

And come out it must somehow so its pouring both within and without me not just in tears but in anxiety’s not so subtle cues via dizzy numb coldflashes with nausea as well as rainbow streaks of innatention, rays of distractibility still pouring and i must feel process and discard.

Morning Rain…

except it’s not. just me on the lower end of the bipolar scale crying and crying as i wait for sleep cause it’s raining inside, and i’m flooded, so it was to come out some way. and little by little sleepiness  comes in waves, cause my overwhelmed biology stopped sleeping nights years ago – only mornings, except on random occasion. never been good @ morning time but sometimes it just bewilders me how much more terrible i get. time elongates into the pit of void like a shifting labyrinth and i’m abandoned there, by myself, just like i am now. and i try to soothe me yet i don’t find how anymore… there is only so much i can do alone with this faulty brain. and it won’t stop. i work in a few hours, and this keeps going. my mind is on overdrive so sharp, feeling hot and sexed up, yet i can’t move or stop the flow of tears as i also feel worthless… morning rain, shades of depressed.

tainted & wasted

I am tainted… filthy.polluted.contaminated.dirty.murky like water with used paint.

I am wasted… discarded.cracked.dissolved.eroded like a rock with murky waters.

I am gonetainted & wastedwaiting in angerimprovement still a no show.

 

I just can’t be…

I can’t be here can’t go there unable to go any-fuckin-where unable to get my life back thus far and I’m loosing hope lacking peace because my vitality is suspended with this anxious hybrid of paranoia and irritability floating in the air thus making it within me triggering cold and hot and sweat and my heart is faster and my brain pushes against my skull as the blood courses through me with remnants of manic projects attacked by this anxiety resulting in failure on 4/6 goals for today and though I’ve been worse likehousebound except for work I can’t feel good just feel worthless which is NOT the same as BEING that though it’s pretty damn close and I hate it but can’t help it just barely and I can’t fuckin breathe cause I can’t be here can’t go there unable to go any-fuckin-where with this attacker torturing me in waves rendering my body energy-less and my intellect out of focus yet my mental speed is on overdrive as my mood is raging depressed and I hate it but can’t help it not even fake it as well anymore because I’m tired of this although I am gaining more wins as of late finally a ray of light randomly shows itself.

#1 Then, #2 Now

Green= Anxiety, Beige= Irritability

I’m sick

I’m sick but you don’t see it.

I’ m sick beyond what you believe.

Because I hide, because I have to do so in order to survive this stigma-ridden society. Because I can’t trust strangers no matter how sweet, because I’ve been broken in the past.

I’m sick but nobody knows just how many levels I’m at within the realm of Fucked-Up.

I’m sick and like to think I’m recovering although deep down I know it’s too late to save this sad story from a bad ending.

At twenty-something I am the remains of a life not yet lived, existing on survival mode, waiting for time to pass in this, my expanding glass prison

I’m sick and no amount of self awareness or discovery can undo it.

I’m sick and falling after so many mixed manic days, exhaustion and anxiety hitting me and dragging me underwater yet again.

I’m a sick girl wearing a band-aid over the madness

that can’t be contained in my brain.

I say I’ll be ok and you believe for it is easier than looking closely at what your eyes see.