yellow

a foggy dear diary

i'm awfully confused

this life plays an amusing game with its characters,
they like to dangle us by the strings of our arms
pour us in sweet honey,
suffocate us until we beg no more
pull our sticky bodies out for a gasping breath
to claw at our limbs
prod our fingernails off, hairs out of our head,
throwing them each and every direction
making us mumble in pain, dread, confusion
and now we have to go find our fingernails

i'm awfully sick

i realized today
as i forced another bitter bite of food down
i can empathize all i want,
burn my skin until it's leather
with the people i love brewing faces in the ash,
but i don't know how to be anyone but myself
and it tears my soul in two understanding that i can't understand
i want to understand you my darling,
but i only can when i'm green ill
and my mind is full of cobwebs

i'm awful

i've put a thumb tack to my forehead with the message reading:
"overly kind, overly sensitive, overly wise, and over thinking it all"
but that persona has been sprawled above my eyes
far too many agonizing years
for most can read the P.S. that states:
"murder my heart, and i'll clean up the mess"
i'm floating from what i've cut myself into
little cubes of myself splattered and unconnecting
my grotesque physic,
all a conglomeration of my worst traits,
can be seen from space

i want to be myself again
but i don't know who that is