Glass

I feel as if my insides are being eaten alive. I had a dream of a time that was painful to me. I had no idea my mind could continue to go there...but it does. And the repercussions of what it does to my head are damaging. Glass is the only noun that freely floats through my haunted thoughts. I'm curious as to what the damage glass can do to one's soul. I cut off all communication from the outside world to reach that level of peace from the spiritual world. I must admit, I'm hearing nothing in return. Is it possible I have the volume turned to off? Rough nights make for sad days. Tainted history makes for alarming future. I can hear white noise all around me and it's annoying since it's loudly drowning out the sorrow I craved to hear instead. I am somber yes, and crazy, yes and loved, no. I cannot believe in the concept of love at this moment. It is lost on me and there feels like no finding in the end. I was unsure of this glass of wine for company. It is however, doing the job I purchased it to do so, I am grateful that worked. Can I be a writer with little words and tons of life experience stored in my vocabulary? I probably won't object to you, stranger stealing my words. Go ahead, people have been stealing shit from me my whole life. This blog does not matter, add it to the list of lost and found or stolen and never regained. Someone once taught me to never take my pen off the paper. I forget that lesson when yelling at you. I feel...nothing. Can I still go to heaven feeling empty inside? Or maybe that argument has been done to death, for fucks sake. You no longer read my thoughts and I am curious as to when I lost you as my number one fan. I'm imagining you've heard these words a time or two and are now passing on my depression. It was the charming and endearing quality I possessed. Damn! I don't know how to change it to win you back. Maybe it's better this way. You ignore me and I continue to fight for self-justification. Don't worry, I'm not offended just eternally suicidal. The most I will ever do is dream about glass. My eyes are exhausted from life pouring out of em all night long. My back is killing me from slipping on ice two weeks ago. My arms are pissed I make em reach out all day long to nothing in the sky. My face is frozen in twenty years from now. I just to be convinced that I would live to be an old lady. I now pray for my breath to hang on one day at a time. Old doesn't scare me. Tomorrow's arrival is what frightens the hell out of me. I wish to come back in my next life as her. She gets what she wants by opening her mouth and singing beautifully. People succumb to her and they always will. I am easily passed for a big fat nobody on the street. My exotic facial features once got me in the door. My crooked eyes see too much today. I feel blinded by your consumption. Why, I ask can something be your fault for once? I can't be me without making a fucking mistake in your stupid ass eyes. I was once perfect to him, he made me. And every day he breaks me. I'm sure if he could nail me to the cross along with him, he would. I'm sure I would faithfully follow. We are cut from the same cloth but with different skin. I'm waiting to feel nothing again but in it's highest form. Some would say, my wait is deafening. I'm most positive that no matter how loud I scream I will still be ignored. What's the point? you ask. Dunno. I guess I keep at it cause it's all I know how to do. That and think of glass.