BABIES

sleep is a wonderful escape from this volatile blur, but once magical it’s now tarnished. it is fleeting and full of torment. I am enduring this, I am no longer relishing it. blackened and feverishly selfish little lines running down my face. fate threw me, frequent intoxication is merely an indication of vanishing motivation, a numbness. I am becoming indolent and my priorities have shifted, but I am by no means lifeless. I have learnt not to deny my fears, as I am well aware with the exit of routine comes the arrival of random acts of hopelessness. when the fear hits me, it shoots through my body, I can feel a buzzing and burning inside my ribcage before I feel it dizzy inside head. but that’s what pretty prescriptions are for. my ties are impenetrable and rarely fickle, and with this comes crippling disappointment. I try to fight the bitterness, I honestly do. maybe one day i’ll be happier, when I find whatever I seem to be searching for.

‘number my babies and my broken body!’

new pain is often merely a reincarnation of old pain, but it is also used as a contrast. I am using this as a contrast. oh please don’t think I am being pessimistic! I am just trying to be realistic, I promise you. this is my lot! this is the baggage, the responsibility that comes with a heightened self awareness, and an aptitude for misery. I am simply not as blessed by fate as you are, presently at least. perhaps this is some sort of karma, the cosmos are not on my side. few people regard this with the furrowed brows that you do, your worries are sugar coated and I thank the stars for your genuine concern, but it is not my fault I am perpetually inclined to hit the floor - lying down reminds me of dreaming! these are hard days for dreaming. I often cradle my sadness, and that’s how it becomes all consuming, but I don’t know how to live life any other way.