Paper-thin bars shouldn't be so constricting.
Transparent walls shouldn't be so addicting.
A spark ignites the next trap that continues to hold me in its grasp.
This wrenching and twisting of my gut demands satisfaction.
Satisfaction found in the destruction of feeling.
Anxiety is temporarily released to the sky in an expulsion of toxic air,
Because it's what I know. What I've become numb to.
The tunnel's too long to see the light at the end.
The clouds are too black to reveal any lining that might present a gleam of silver.
Another leap toward the realization of a dream results in scraped knees.
Another redepmtion overlooked in the interest of accomplishing the next failure.
Glistening droplets of dread gather in the recesses of my imagination.
A culmination of blood, tears, poisons and regret block any outlet where creative genius might flow.
Letting go would only result in the release of vomit and disappointment,
And things better left unsaid.
Unable to trust my own judgement, I seek the affirmation of those who hold no lasting interest in my end result.
I rely on no-one, and I rely on everyone.
I crush any and all of my own dreams with the same vehicle that brought them forth.
I am my own worst nightmare.
I blame myself for blaming myself and hate myself for blaming anyone else.
Paper-thin bars close in at the risk of breaking;
Claiming me as their willing captive.
More excuses are made. More opportunities dismissed.
I lay on my face, letting the concrete catch my toxic tears.
Breathing subsides and I'm at peace.
