4-1-16
It feels like I'll be stuck in this bed forever,
With its dark blue sheets,
Its moonlight soaked memories,
Its scent of me hanging heavy all over it.
I'm held against it like a vow,
And I've never been good at keeping promises,
But this one, I can't shake off, I can't break this connection.

Inspiration sparks up with the touch of a finger,
and my tired eyes somehow focus again,
Because this is so much better than pouring blood from my system.
This releases what I need it to.
Maybe this bed is my home,
It's where I'm safe.
I think I'll shut the curtains for awhile and bury myself in deep blues,
I need to fucking write.
- (m.m)

I'm just waiting it out,
Hoping these emotions don't decide to drastically change their courses again-
It's so draining.

Self destruction is exhausting,
War is exhausting,
Especially when the battle is all inside your head.

Writing feels like the only safety I can reach right now.
- (m.m)

The days got so blurry and hazy and I can't really recall much at all,
And that scares me so bad,
Because my mind is the only thing i have going for me- it's who I am.
I can remember you, though,
You broke through this really really blurry grey force field.
You got through.
- (m.m)