So I begin again. Cutting my losses the with wire and nail. A worthless cause and a sinking sense of security. Paranoia came in succession only to find me on my knees. Scratch at surroundings. Scratching numbers into my arms again. I remain without motion. Cursing every suspended moment that I spend questioning myself and everyone else. And in these quiet hours, I realize I was not yet fit to feel free. How long before I lose sight of what is real? How long before I was never real at all? Here I hold the ties that bind, connecting wires to the constants and wasting away. Deterioration moves in and out of a conscience state but I could not unravel the chains. Seclusion burns and confinement wounds across a crooked figure. Erase a physical state in avoidance of anxious triggers. constructs of this dividing line I seem to be placed in between, continues to give out and give way to anguish and more of my selfish grief. Speak in matters of time, waiting for the post of structure to finally collapse. Speak in words of separation, understanding this could never last. There is no soul left in the engine. There is no spirit left in the machine. I’m breaking all of the gears in the clockwork in attempts to fracture this feeding need. I don’t want to be alive anymore.
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