trapped

your mind and skin 

reject being your home anymore,

your screams never reach 

your lips anymore, 

you try to shut it out 

but can't escape it anymore

you wish you could die

but are too tired to try anymore

that nasty tempest

TW: no rhymes, no coherence; read at your own risk

it bangs on your doors at midnight

brings in a wave of your grotesque past     

turns into a storm  

wrapped in a damp blanket,

blurs and blocks your vision

before ravaging your soul for good

it slowly crawls into 

your broken mind

light and swift 

like a roach,

catches you unawares

sprawls into your insides

before spoiling your senses for good

if depression had a voice

its words would bleed,

its screech would rip and rattle

your earth's surface

before shattering its core for good

TW: bleed, soak, die

Some day my 

bleeding thoughts 

will kill me,

not that I need saving... 

I'd rather drown 

in their blood

than in my own

Some day my

mind will turn 

into a graveyard

not that I'm scared...

I'd rather be haunted by

my morbid present than 

my grotesque past

Some day my

body will turn into ashes

not that I need saving...

I'd rather burn in  

pyre of my dead feelings

than my funeral