Poetic Nothingness

We're back. Back to raging rivers and shrouded pain. I'd give anything to let it wash away. Dilute the agony with rapid distraction. Don't look at me like that. Like you can see my soul. It makes me want to see yours. And what then? Nothing. Give me the world and then take it away. Leaving me with longing. Take me, take me away. From this desert swamp of life. I need to get out, this rooms is giving me the chills. It's strange. I've never been this uncomfortable in my own body before. Avoid solitude like a plauge. This wall of lonliess will only protect me for so long. The cycles of hurt. Round and round in all possible kinds of pain. Overdone. Dramatized for my own benifit. Can't admit to myself that I mean nothing. Because then it will be true. Is anyone going to read this? Lonely agonizations of a spoiled girl. Choppy and unregocnizable even to herself. Fading into poetic nothingness.

Singing the secret song of sorrow. Hidden tracks. My lonliness runs on hidden tracks. Through a tunnel, disguised by hyper musings of sexy rockstars. Deepest secrets hidden beneath my wristbands. Misled dreams. Bittersweet agonizing joy. There are no flowers, no not this time. There are no angels gracing the lines, just these stark words, I find. I'd show a smile, but I'm too weak, I'd share with you, could I only speak, just how much this, hurts me. I cannot stay here, I cannot leave.

Where should I go with all this madness. I need to reach out. Talk to someone other than myself. Where to turn? To most I'm happy-go-lucky. Man would they be surprised. Can't find my coughdrop. To end these convulsions. I'm sure. Masking misery is meaningless madness. Caring, not coughdrops, confine confinment. This confining confinement is compromising cheerfulness. Alliterations of agony accomplish all but assuagement. </3 -K

Return to the Forest