bursting

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?

Advertisements

numbing

Hands as soft as the fragility of your ego
You compensate by making every woman whom you encounter feel disposable.
Erasable
God forbid you actually show yourself
your goals.
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.