Andr0o

A room filled with hate, A room in the dark. Rooms fill this space, They bleed dry my beating heart. Without warning-- blinding light, Bring elation into here. Day is come, And my heart is burning. The morning's red, Inside my head, Bursting boozed, From last night's gin. Hair of the dog goes in, Burns a bit down. Without warning-- blinding light, Bring elation into here. Day is come, And my heart is burning. Show me the light, I'll turn away, I'm amidst the night, That's just how I say, I'll be alright. ...But don't trust me, I'm a liar, you see?

You're my biggest regret, I lost the chance, I gripped and faltered, Pushed you away. I would never regret, I gave my all, Made you acknowledge, That I can feel. I cannot regret it, But still I do, I didn't tell you, [THIS SPACE LEFT BLANK]

Since you were so good to me, I don't want to tell you, This is how it ends: Left in the dark, Dying for light, Lonesome soul, Downcast.

An evening spent, And feeling content. I give you my all, You make the call. I try and fail, To no avail. You leave me there, I was unaware. How we feel, May not be ideal. Let's give it a try, And be together hereby.

words are not the problem trust is the problem vulnerability is the problem we get used to not being able to admit needs or fears and have those be accepted and supported we've been punished for it in the past, expressing anything real to our inner experiences not allowed to be angry not allowed to be sad so we learn that all honest communication ends in conflict or disappointment, so what is the point

Dying and worse, Living with it; This shell of mine. Barren but me, Built up between storms Which laid bare the faults, A façade of expectation. Glimpse in and see, That dysfunctional me, Malnourished, lacking, stunted. A broken beaten thing, Not befitting the castle built around it. Dissatisfied, the shell becomes me. Unable to break the connection, Dragging the thing about, Longing to be free. No satisfaction, Pout. Tearing away, Pulling free, Cutting the cord, But it's no longer me. Just a shell. Storms batter "me," Break me down, Leave the faults exposed, "I'm" in a bad way. Trying to fix it, But lacking myself, Both lost, with

What we see and what we hope for. Leave it to the queen. Reeking of wood-smoke. The cherished imperfection. The tragic gap. Hold tension and make it beautiful. Picking up the pieces. Making something new. Guided mastery. Their stories became the art. Learning to be creative within the confines of our limitations. Seize the limitation. Thank you. Waiting for your turn to get the gamma rays.

Oh, font of wisdom, Remark upon This, My Work laid bare, Contain within It, Your waters of creation.

 Simone raised her head at the sound of shattering glass. She had fallen asleep at the keyboard again whilst painstakingly typing away at arguments she had started on the internet. Her state of mind sluggishly drifted to conscience, even as her eyes begged her not to see. She had knocked her mouse with a jerk and her monitors had begun to glare at her with what seemed to be a trillion tiny suns. Reflexively she quickly hit each of their power buttons, rubbing at her eyes. She glanced as briefly as she could at the old digital alarm clock on her nightstand, it read 3:59 for an instant before flicking to t:00 (which would be 4 o'clock but one