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poem - worms of the senses
Current mood:
 cynical
tw ed, sh, general mental illness
just a poem i wrote about some stuff i've been going through.
I have seen it all through dull, unfocused eyes; unwashed hands move through grimy bathrooms, nauseous from the pressure of conflicting ideals, the cognitive dissonance that is my religion.
I worship a malevolent god, screaming down from the heaven it promises as it plunges me further into a hell I cannot understand. Fog worms it’s way into my brain through my ears, muffling the insults thrown at me like knives at a board. They slide off of my skin, barely making a dent in the soft wood of my low self esteem. A voice is released from my body, not my own - resembling it as I spit scorn at my own mother, releasing the rage. Scream, throw, hit, and then storm away, miserably malicious, shaped by rejection and moulded by pain into a twisted mockery of the human form. All I want is to return to humanity, through the only means I know; ripping and tearing at my own skin, vacuuming the air from my lungs and continuously pinching imperfections away. A steady diet of nothing keeps me numb and cold to the world that I hope never to return to, keeping myself alive through slowly killing myself.
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