Lemons

I don't want to understand. I don't want to 'hash it out'. I hate that I can't connect, and when I do, I hate that people need me. I can't feel the wind anymore, but i'm held tight in embraces. I want to be lonely again, but being the phoenix burns like hell. Tears act as fingers pointing inward, exposing everything i've tucked away and turned against. I've become so good at being a voice that I've lost my own and I don't know where I'm falling I just can't feel the road beneath my feet anymore. I need to sleep but don't want to close my eyes. The passive is overpowering. To let another day just roll in like everything will go on and be okay would be murder to this fire that I miss and despise so badly. To send a message and not get a response is better than not sending at all? Yes. But the world runs on murder and manipulation. The bumps are no longer friends, but strangers staking their ground in a body I no longer know. I need music, but have never heard the words. My teeth shut out the wind when I smile and smiles turn into hot breath. Hate breath. Retching up something just out of reach. Wanting to feel dry again. I can't. Breathe. out of my nose. So leave my mouth open. I'll take the pain, if it makes everything whiter. My thoughts are not my own anymore and my life is cinders, waiting on the breeze through the trees. Cause if I can't find my own voice, I just want to hear the mountains - talk


talk








talk.