.... zZz (?)

i'mmm (?) huh huh huhhh who is messy, dumb and addicted to diet coke, i still have all my teeth, i'm good, so good, very good at taking care of corpus 2.016. i wish i was made from clay. red dirt clay, seaweed dust.
this this is the far away place where i can be alone and screech into the void, it's cozy here. dark and cold. i live @ home too tired to go outside and too fucked in the head to care. bpd, schizotypal, ptsd, ednos, depression & anxiety. i pick scabs andcan't stand too bright places. red light is the only thing that doesn't make me feel insane. tired tired tired.

uhmm i don't feel pretty @ any times, rather i feel like i'm an ugly walking corpse, i luv silent hill & fatal frame. i never play videogames, except for hp4 on gameboy. not really a tomboy not really a girly-girl. just there. just falling between the lines and not caring whether i live or die.

poetry

how does one come back from the death? how does one stop melting into the carpet like liquidfied fat? how does one refuse to be a homicide victim to own impulses?