a fit of regression

It's hard to escape our irresolute minds. Old patterns die hard because we like them. Itwas a tough morning and I digressed into self-rebuke and loathing. Self mutilation never looked so good, so I did this instead. Breathinbreathout...breathinbreathout...

glass & steel

twisted shrapnel repeats inside me,
a fragmented, slivered, echoing mistake;
more relentless self-absorbing examination of intention -
a mirror that peers into the mirror that peers into the mirror -
i squint into its surface
anxious, it can shatter
sure, it will shatter
afraid, it will shatter
preemptively, i shatter

malignant despair, tangled rebuke,
fallacy of intricacy shaded by apathy,
after thought falls away, left with out
mangled, shivering dystopia
forced hand, fingers dripping cold with blood
impotent, important undeniable
trainwreck train wreck
trainwreck train wreck
trained/wrecked.
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Call it therapy I guess. Then this monsstrosisityty was born:

sph(e)re of influenc(e)

future discord, malign and sterilize:
keep the piece
the jaws of life can't
extricate

a symbolic truth, failure incarnate:
the flesh. the fleshly. the rotting;
a corpse of a dream of a shadow of sanity -
an eph e
me
ra l notion
of tan g(le)ibilit (libel/libert)y

uncertainly uncertainty waits in the doorway,
coa(t)l black, jackboot fascist depravity:
stompingon-stampingon-stompedon
hostility

eggshell ricepaper, membranous translucence,
brittle, untrusting, oxidized, and rusting

i'(m
e) falling a part,
mygripdestroying:

a butterfly's wings smashed on my fingers

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It was a tough morning, but Laura stopped by at work (where I'm writing now) and helped me to feel better. It's a good feeling, being loved. It's hard to feel deserving sometimes.