time's running out of sand
to bury everything
limestone piled high
pyramids of dead
make me closer to my God
my God my god my gods
eyesight of falcons
pray prey pray
king of the living
lock me away
Renewed Secretsabstract:Renewed Secrets by calibius
I exist outside of concrete reality. I am not the sum of my parts. i am abstruse. I do not like secrets. And it's your fault.
Don't tell anyone. It's a secret.
Secrets are meaningless.
Secrets are useless.
Secrets just end up hurting someone—or everyone.
I can't hide the truth
Because I'm tired of hiding.
I only told you because I thought you'd care,
But I was wrong, you just wanted something to use against me
This is the truth.
Anxiety fractures through my mind. The newly-formed crevices refracturing light into opaqueness. And
when I look in the mirror I see these fractures reflected like shattered glass mosaics -- abstract.
you can't see through me.
you're part of the problem and you don't even know it. Or maybe you do. And that's even worse.
I am not even sure why, but I don't like myself. And
I taste ash in my mouth
Devolution: that's a good word.
I am devolving—and I don't even know into what I am unbecoming.
I just know
epitomizeYou might as well know: I’m broken.epitomize by calibius
I don’t smile for the mirror—
I see things differently than others, for instance:
I. am. fat.
I know I'm technically not but I’m still fat—
and anyway, who said technicalities matter?
I paint pictures over the reflection so I can’t see my image;
I've lost the ability—because apparently i can’t paint
since my reflection doesn’t look a damn thing like me;
my mind fractures, as inanimate objects whisper lies to me each day
and i need a new set of paint because i’ve used mine up while composing lies across unbroken glass,
smudged with steam from cold showers, i drink in the fog—
leaden lies drag me down
and my mind’s eye sees more perceptively than i’d like,
i’ve been using toxic paint, toxic paint, but the crimson on the counter...well, technically— that’s not paint;
and, apparently, i was wrong— technicalities might matter