This second hand,
on my watch,
is keeping me busy.
Keeping me dizzy,
as my thoughts pool around my eyes.
When you walked away,
I could have sworn I heard you say,
That you don't care anymore,
that I'm really just a bore,
that since I'm not what you wanted,
I must have been a whore.
The future scares me,
the thought of loss,
the thought of death.
It makes me blue,
It makes me coo,
soft prayers into ears of God's that treat me like an insect.
That same blood,
that same gore,
that same blue-feeling....
It's all a facade.
The feeling is a amazing,
when you watch a human bleed,
The feeling is contaigous,
as you watch that b
My brain feels...
squishy.
The sound of music makes my eyes pitch up and down,
I can see your sounds.
I'm laying on my floor,
With my feet pointed towards my door,
my heart is making my skin move a little.
I smell the heartbeats.
I'm walking down a shore,
my feet free from their multi-colored homes,
Further down this river...
Further down this river,
What will I find in these sand covered domes?
I'll know if I walk a little more.
There is no boat to keep me floating,
I'm drowning in this sticky substance hoping,
I'll learn how to swim..
Or will I happily sink into the unknown?
Will it all be shown?
Will everything that's h
Effects of Inaction - revised by jacob-bishop, literature
Literature
Effects of Inaction - revised
I no longer know what to do,
so I try at the very least
not to repeat what I did before,
after all the good I tried to do
(and failed).
If I could manage to do nothing
in a vacuum of actions and words,
would this breakdown continue further?
Perhaps I will just implode
in a masochists disappearing act:
"Behold, while I vanish before your eyes
in a plume of my own smoking frustration!"
Inaction yields its own results,
a physics experiment in unseen forces.
No convenience fee is required,
no accusation is warranted,
no photograph can possibly catch me in the act.
Yet it practices a cold and lonely act;
of looming shapes in s
I tuck you in tight, kiss you goodnight.
I tell you you're beautiful and too good for him.
I try to shine the light when your life looks grim.
I work hard to make you proud and when you sleep, I try not to be too loud.
I have to tell you one way or another.
I'm sorry mom, but I can't go on
being your mother.
I fake my steps like they mean something.
Trying not to stumble until I end up breaking an ankle.
The irony is so thick today, like monkey bars.
Or maybe that's something different.
I don't know how it got to this point.
Seems everything but my shell is a lie.
Still, sometimes even that's worse than the nut inside.
I think if you put your ear to my eyes you'd hear the ocean.
Get it?
Like an empty soul? No?
-Shrug it off-
The grass is always greener I suppose.
Then again I grew up in a concrete jungle.
So, I don't think that applies to me.
I never even asked for flowers.
Street lights last longer and they don't make me sneeze.