Impurities honestly stories

kelseywoods uncomfortable poet
Autoplay OFF   •   3 years ago
ramblings and half-truths


I have a hard time being honest with myself the wants and desires of a raving lunatic who screams at the cages confining the spirit pretending I am fine

instead I am Cathy in the flowers hiding my madness behind begotten reasoning blaming my manifested persona upon something which was never meant to be digested as a whole conceptual enterprise

fixation on that which should not draw my wandering eyes why are we drawn to that which is impure and biased against us?

for my first presentation I began with a simple phrase which brought the silence of everything raining down upon me: "my name is Kelsey, and I have depression" I've felt sick to my stomach the nights since

lately I have been outpouring my frustrations onto people who are undeserving like the woman who sat in the pew in front of me at my parents' church in the old chapel which held my despised mandatory class session

the call of the void is strong with this one who lets their heart be torn open and abused by their own mind I am no longer anything Not woman nor man I am beyond saving

so far within the closet that I can feel the moths scratching the exposed skin is honesty too much to be swallowed at this point? or is the depth of the words far too shallow for the broached methodology?

all I do is write in prose and speak nothing much my eyes are straining to remain open as my body sleeps the days and nights into oblivion gone I am nothing that I used to be

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