Venting
It's blurry every where I go .. It's dark .. it's empty and it's shallow ..The disorder is eating me alive .. I keep fighting, wresliing, gaining nothing but bitterness and sadness .. There's no way out .. It's very hard this time .. Everything feels so numb, so out of life .. Crawling is the word, fatigure is the act, my mind is the place .. This upper box of mine needs some cracking, some banging, some breaking .. These thoughts of mine needs some elimination, enervation, starvation .. Lots of work to do, constant headaches and stomach aches .. Deeply falling, hardly rising and eternally confusing .. I don't have to make any sense, I know .. Just venting is my way to go .. Pain eats me, death awaits me .. with no one 'knowing how' to save me .. Sorry for myself is the word, constantly crying is the act, and my mental sanctuary is the place .. .. N.O.H.A ..