Plith

notepad, where are you,
are you dreaming gloriously in a field of tantrums, of lore and anger
deranged in margarine bottles of despair
tangerine’s sweetness in sour; I’ll drink you
and  be lost to the extent that the body would stop creating essential vitamins

so near  and so close
that sometimes
driving yourself up the wall, clinging precariously, craving at the corner of each day
like that’s even possible.
when the fingers slowly touch the walls, white paint and fear of falling

insincere eyes roving and raiding inside me
when nothing is said or told or written and mentioned
I do not want to care
want to begin
want to start
there is no difference
or me clamoring for my attention, it is pure destruction
not physical, body clenched and arms ringing or lips biting

But of the worst kind, the ones scared to say out loud what she feels
to keep it all inside till it breaks

breaks and disappears. No one would notice what happened, crashed, stuck, stuttering winding’s
of places we go to and have never held hands
on the other side of the other side is a dream we cannot live
plithfully
i don’t know for sure what that means.
i haven’t checked it in the dictionary yet, would take me a moment, a fleeting moment, let’s not think about it without feeling plith

I tried calling my mother a few times, but she just wouldn’t pick up.
Pick up, mother.

Tell me anything, I just want to hear your voice, you’ve never been that close to me, there has been no reason to make you close.
but these days I often whisper your name in my head, softly
Ma

When I hear your voice or your husband’s. I feel like this is my outlet to cry. My only space to cry to let all of its bubbles go.

lies and truth, all the pain that I see no meaning to.
Perpetuatingly sad, I remember everything ma, and I want to kill myself when I realize how heartless I have become
and you had each of your fingers dipped in it
I can never tell you
I wouldn’t want you to wet your fingers in my blood of quietness
The quiet that fills like a suffocating room dying its own breath, deeper into the crevices of each patchy wall.
Roaming free inside each plaster, each speck of memory and tear
worn out dreams, why don’t you give me some of them.
I’d like to remember my dreams in the mornings
I’d not say no. Its easier to say yes. But much easier to say nothing.

empty walls and empty hearts, it never has been so alone.
I have tried to fill the Saturdays with more warm souls
They get cold really soon

We digressed away, didn’t we

Too many times these words of metaphors, there is really no use. It has been previously stated,
it s an amazing way of saying, so lovely, so quaint, no, i do not want tobe happy
because I do not wish to being sad

I wouldn’t be able to take it, take what Annie, it’s already gone, taken, wasted, boiled and thrown out the window.

momentarily stoned to death, dull lulls of doing only what the brain wants. It controlling the whole body like it owns me.
How far could the body possibly fight, its tempting to die. To end things that are worth nothing.
repeating the word ‘nothing’ isn’t helping.
I’m just writing, writing to be released
It has been a while, may be a long while since I’ve felt free

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