jetta

To try to sort all of my different emotions into single
words would only be a mockery; As well as impossible.

I feel so alive yet the inside is quite dead. An over stuffed envelope of scrap memories and secret sweet nothings never sent to someone I never knew.

Dryheaving up the mouthfuls of bullshit I have been forced to swallow and ripping out the stitching that binds this frankinstien heart I was boarn to bear. I could almost cry;
-but will just laugh instead.

The relentless and so chaotic; but orderly deconstruction of me chokes my brain and leaves me breathlesly a gasp. The lonelyness that swings me to sing this caged birds song echos deep within my abandond body.

-All I wanted was;... was to cryout in the heat of the moment.. an overwhelming need to ejaculate
the despiration my skin serenades to your deaf ear. Struggeling to admit; everything that I could and so hopelesly starve to feel, is composed with the same element as fairy tales;
-sadly,
Even children know; while monsters may exsist...
Fairy tales- their in themselv's are denied of ever being real.