fireinmyhead

panic eats at my teeth because i can’t gnaw it to sleep, eating the extra fat and my intestinal wires are piggy and lined with calories and salt and panic. when my eyelids are sewn shut it’s hard to see anything but the entire world forcing itself into my hands, saying, “here, take it,”  but i can’t take it. it’s the vertigo of the north pole and the south pole and the equator meeting and dispersing after pleasantries, exiting from the wrong monumental door as they leave so now the oceans panic because they cant find their shores to hug and i can’t blame them for the misplaced land mass but m

[I love him because the sky is blue.] I painted his face silver and drew lines under his eyes so he wouldn't have to cry anymore but he told me that as long as I was here we could mix our tears and draw a mural of our suffering so we could never forget that laughter cracks the shell of depression. I asked him where he came up with a theory like that but he wouldn't tell me. Because, he said, he didn't come up with it he just found it and dusted it off a bit before he could show me, and that maybe my imagination needed some cleaning too. So we spent the afternoon, and polished every piece and shined them with our tears and the paint dripped

My heart consists: Of needles and pins, Threads to stitch and repair, Rusty clips and your fingerprints, Depression, disgust, and despair, A paper cut and three large screws, Plunged into the center, A wrinkle, a tear(tare), a puddle of tears, But it's beating, I've sewn it together. -Jockii