stolen wings and evil ways

words fall out in hurried piles. they don't have coherency, these days. my body aches and creaks with every painful movement. i'm sure it's just a physical reaction to mental pain. everyone is kicking goals, and i sit at home and stare at the ceiling for hours on end.

this vapid life has lost its bright lustre. ill never be able to save myself from myself.

anxiety

i was overwhelmed so i started to write, the dead weight of memory, page after page after page until some of the grief was expelled from my heart. i was still overwhelmed so i sang in the shower, song after song after song until some more of the grief was expelled from my heart. and still i went to sleep with a heavy heart. for me change, passing from one thing to another, is a partial death. a part of us dies. the sadness about its dying or passing away cannot but touch my heart. i do what i do because i don't know how to be someone else.

he said he loved me, the magic word. it was supposed to make everything light up and be fixed. ill never trust that word again. i let whatever was in me that still needed you, need.

maybe we carried each other? maybe even forgiveness is without resolution.