turtlesyndromeqxz

(i.) your tongue is painted with acrylics and blended to look natural. while we are packed into boxes and stacked, one on top of the other, i will hum tunelessly because i know you hate small spaces. the heat of your hand will bleed through the wood and i'll feel it making my spine watery. and i'll whisper, "i can never walk again." (ii.) your limbs are made of the same thing that keep trees standing. and i believe your hands are made from clouds. "thank you for your eyes," i say, and you never do understand. (iii.) with your toes curled in the sheets and your body arched in painful aching, i can see the nature

today, my stomach hurts. maybe it has something to do with the butterflies. maybe they're eating me inside out. or maybe they're sick of all the over working i seem to put them through. nonstop butterflies, that's what you give me. or maybe, maybe they're folding back into their cucoons, leaving me empty once again. totally empty. - - - maybe i've got all my senses mixed up, but ever since i've met you i think i've been seeing love and tasting anxiety and touching insanity, and with just a blink of my irses they all twirl and change and dance behind my eyelids, and that's when i start tasting disgust and seeing hate and tou

- - - every night you scream at someone. i try to tell you they're not there; they don't exist. but you can't hear me. your body writhes like a tornado and the covers are bathed with sweat. it must feel like blood to you. that must be why you howl yourself hoarse. why i sleep with earmuffs gripped tight and dream of you dying. (it used to be a nightmare, but now it's more of a wish.) - - - you mumble to the same someone while you eat those crumbly cornflakes. something about something that i don't think you entirely understand. i don't know why i still make you a bowl every day. you think i would learn after the thirteenth time of broom

listen, just for a few minutes. take a few deep breaths [even if you don't want to breathe anymore]. listen to the pitter-patter of your heart beating in your ears and feel your pulse racing. taste the silence of the world; see the anxiety take over you. close your eyes and look at the black. look at the black until you see something worth holding onto inside of yourself. wait until breathing doesn't feel like a losing game and then open your eyes, and listen. . look, you are wonderful. you remind me of a lullaby in winter, sung like a secret not meant for anyone to know; but it's a shame, because you're one of the most beautiful songs.