Apathy; Feel Me!

vent/ots

My demons are having fun in my mind, gassing it up with lies. But I've become immune to the toxins....

I've learned to inhale, and I've learned to exhale, thanks to these solid lines that seem to run through me without speaking...

As if, by design, we were made this way, as if, by the grand scale... the weight of the world balancing on my shoulders, as if... [the crease of a pointed edge, jutting out] -the makings of a world map- I have been born into something I do not like, do not have the power to control, do not -even if I mustered all the hatred in this world- dare to defy.....

These words that they throw around, so casually, without remorse, without aftermath, these words that carelessly hold... and these words that I have held with such gusto -with such passion- that, had I slipped and fallen, I would've made a mess of myself.....

I apologize for skipping tracks, because my mind is as big as my [...] and blood is pumping. From my heart, blood is pumping; but I am hungry and I hunger only to understand.

~~~

They do not mind.

The crows all call them in and they do not mind if I do not come down to join them as they eat.

Because I am busy, I am writing; all my feelings are reeling and it feels like insanity, but I must spill.

I must drone.

/ There is a cup, but not a small cup. I am certain it has been made just for my tears, because the substance in which they are made up of are indeed, my tears - they do not listen.

I have no choice and they do not listen.

But they are good people, and I love them without knowing.

I know they'd never do anyhting to hurt us intentionally.

But my heart is already broken by all the little things they've done, and doesn't that add up?

Make an uneven pile, just to lay on it, resting easy because you know you've covered it with a facade, a sugar-coated mask, an excuse to herd them all in, screaming in your mind, "COME IN!!!! COME IN!!!! THE WATER IS ALREADY UNDER THE BRIDGE!!!"

My voice is soft.

No one hears me.

I cannot yell, or I cry and I hate it when I cannot handle my own emotions, so I stay still and hope that these poems will tell them all a story of my suffering, of 19 years onwards, in the dark.

Of disappearing, time and time again, becuse I cannot handle the situation in front of me and I cannot cry because then, becuase... because then, my sister will never learn of my resilience, she will know of my cowardice and that is something I do not want to be known for.

I am a coward, most times.

I run from myself; my emotion and feeling, and all of my harbored treasure lie in the empty bottomless sea of my consciousness.

It pains me to think that a pin could hold up so much....