my pen races around paper pulling tightly at my heart strings.
i will try for fucking hours to purge you from my breaking head,
try to stem each infection before it gets the chance to spread
but it is aggressive like a cancer and akin to addiction, it reoccurs,
it has dampened each of my writings and has caused all my words to slur.
completely incurable alongside it's ability to accumulate
how turns the pressure on your shoulders into bearing fucking weight.
i personify the barely functioning parts to maintain some momentum,
if this depression is a poison, i'm drinking the antivenom.
moving ever so slightly closer towards my complete and utter stagnation,
i want to completely remove myself from this entire fucking equation.
cut out every piece that makes me human and replace it with newer machines
and stop exhausting you each night from running through every one of my dreams.
i guess we'll know by next year if i've managed to weather this storm
if i've rebuilt the bridges ripped down and burnt to keep myself warm.
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