I have paced around this garden.
i have drawn a breath of memory loss.
i have breathed in and forgotten
to contemplate the cost.
in my hands and at the ends of my arms,
bleeding from the wounds I seem to glorify,
and held to gather all my blood if its warm,
there my bonds are tied.
this submission is my only sense of bliss.
my addiction is repetition of worthless f*cking things I've tried and failed.
I have paced around this garden.
I have found all of my inability.
I have eaten what was rotten,
the fruit of instability.
im still waiting for someone
to tell me why I've set this fire
to my hopeless f*cking life of lies;
told cause Im afraid of myself.
terrified.
never knew fear, now Im terrified.