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Dear Mister Conductor Dear Mister Train Conductor,Dear Mister Conductor by ~piplovespaine
Every time I close my eyes I feel the tracks and taste the steel
Every time I look around I see the train and hear the whistle blow
Stuck inside the frame of mind I see my death a thousand times again
I hear my voice, it says goodbye, it says this last act is selfish
A thousand times again and I'm so sorry
Every time I lose control it comes back to this
Psychosis state of mind has me pinned to my bed again
And I can taste my death, my sweet crushing release is
So bittersweet because in the end it's never really real
Cult of inaction has my body lying, this is the only self control I have
I cannot stop
Morning Psychosis I went down to breakfast, thought everything was fine.Morning Psychosis by ~piplovespaine
Then I went back to my room to pray and knew I had to die.
What ever came over me? I'm sure I'll never know,
But the sweet sweet voice in my head said 'it's your time to go'.
I can't breathe I can't feel anything but heat
And I scream, but no one comes to comfort me.
And I fall (why am I alone I can't recall)
To my knees and I see it all my possibilities
They narrow down as I see my body
Lying dead upon the ground.
As I'm choking down my screaming there's something I must do.
I should stop this fatal meltdown, turn the handle, get to you.
So I grapple with composure, pick
Apprehensive | I live primarily in my mind, but I emerge from thought occasionally to do bothersome but necessary things like work, eat, sleep, write, etc. I'm a quiet person, I don't share easily, but I wouldn't call myself shy by any means. I tend to prefer things make sense. I would think most people prefer things make sense but experience tells me this either isn't the case or many people simply don't know how to hold onto sense when they find it and certainly don't know how to make sense themselves except for rare occasions when they happen upon it by accident. I don't suppose I'm much better off than the average person when it comes to making sense either of myself or of anything else but it certainly is nice when it's stumbled upon. At this point in my life I'd dearly like to stumble upon some sense as I seem to be lacking any. |
Sta.sh
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the more you try to erase me, the more the more, the more that i appear