He finally got inside of me.
I became necrotic.
Is that what you call erotic?
Haven’t heard from him since..
Is how I’m feeling neurotic?
Decaying my mind and clinging to lies
But the problem was never me,
It was the lack of depth you had inside
theres a sadness welling inside of me that disguises itself as apathy.
I always remember that I can never truly trust.
every ounce of unabashed love I’ve ever harbored has begun to rust.
I’m covered in dust that I brush off by laughter, but I’m unable to reach the ever-darkening corners in the room that is my consciousness.. that continues to spread as if it were mold. It eats at me gradually, leaving a residual pain accompanied with every fond memory.
is it maniacal laughter or an attempt to stuff away the pain?
Is it silliness or is it an escape?
Hands as soft as the fragility of your ego
You compensate by making every woman whom you encounter feel disposable.
God forbid you actually show yourself
What makes you whole
Or what would feel that hole inside of you
That you desprately try to fill
with women and substances that make you ill.