my brain is slowly eating me alive

The heart is a fist.
It pockets prayer or holds rage.

Can't put my thoughts into words I want to scream and pull my hair out I'm so fucking mad

I became bitter and untouchable. I craved affection but even the mere thought of someone caring made my stomach turn.

I do mind, resent really, years wasted with my own neurotic living and my dull mind.

I dream of lost vocabularies
that might express some of what we no longer can.

one day you think: I want to die. and then you think, very quietly: actually. actually. I think I want a coffee. a nap. a sandwich. a book. and / want to die turns day by day into want to go home, I want to walk in the woods, I want to see my friend, I want to sit in the sun, I want a cleaner kitchen, I want a better job, I want to live somewhere else. I want to live.

has anyone else noticed that being alive is like, not the most dignified experience ever

But everywhere,
the pain suckles you. Everywhere, you hold its lumpy head to your breast like a saint.

the older i get the less i feel the need to be included, understood, or accepted

But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever

dappled light

it's hard to see red flags when trauma has painted everything red