walls of fear collapse inwards

memories or half-truths in the mind bring forth the most torment

i used to be an excellent student, was i not?

one of those typical over-achievers, top 10% individuals in the population, just getting by without being prodigious, yet within the 'special' stream

i curse that system now, wish it could have damaged less, constructed more, because now I have nothing left to salvage, for all my pathetic learning has given me nothing, no joy, no satisfaction, only the knowing that there will always be that grinding defeat of judgement from elders and peers who can never accept nor understand.

and still i ask why.

why do I build these walls of self-pity, of horrifying doubts, fears, neurosis and paralysing paranoia, when now so many windows of opportunity appear to open of their own accord?

why can I not move my hideous body, force my hideous face to express appreciation and happiness at the gifts and blessings heaped upon my head?

why this sorrow? this overwhelming lethargy, this dead weight that is the irony of living, the hollow fullness of rotting burden, mutating, expanding, consuming, trapped in my core, eating its way outwards...

i am trapped in myself, my disgusting form, this disgusting life, and all the guilt and regret and pressures from everywhere could simply crush me into shit, and who will care?

at least as shit one could fertilise the growth of beautiful things, of living things that seem to bear more purpose being alive.

this is not failure, not quite, or i am in denial, refusing to confess or admit my weakness...yet it is defeat.

my struggle grows every new day into the demon who is eating my heart alive, burying my willpower, my spirit, my motivations and desires to create, in nothing, nothing more than a television screen.

and i will sit, inanimate, and watch these globalised sorrows play out in the small box, just as mine boil and bubble, roll and grind, in the walls of my flesh.

let me lie still and forget...who will purge this decay from me?

deep end

i feel
though I also think
and cannot stop the flood
it is
suffocation
realising with perverse glee that
madness is power
the impending mania defies any fear
yet this fear is the key
and the mind the door which enters into
drowning
multiples in orgy
the selves fall apart and laugh at each other
sensations of exquisite despair bizarre sorrow hysteria joy murderous fury
asphyxiation
delicately thread the line which strangles
vertigo vision
it is too easy to let the self be destroyed in this quest for the questionable
and then swallowed darkness expands
infinitely, and the falling
should end
maybe

Blindness, Plans. Objectives, Aimlessness, Foresight

1.
i don't know, esteemed one, i don't know. the vision grows dimmer as the future darkens.
in objects of beauty we create, we invest our doomed affections, even as we die every day.
you said love will die as the body starves, that necessity triumphs over passion;
perhaps those already jaded with these games of hunger and power cannot love at all.
sometimes i see that bleak weariness glaze over the cheer in your eyes,
and i fear that same despair - that same monster that leers over each of us in waking nightmares
like some cancer, a parasite that consumes spirit and makes hollow shells of men.
how hollow can one become before completely crumbling into shards of uselessness?

2.
if i promise you, beloved one, if i promise you, yet wish to break all these chains that bind me here, as i would yearn for the recurring escape to pastures beyond -
will you be blinded by bitterness, hatred of my fallacy?
perhaps your love would lead to forgiveness, but
then i would deserve a lifetime of guilt and regret, to have hurt you beyond all the boundaries of patience, trust, understanding, support, and all the love you gave me
trampled upon by my awkward, over-reaching ambitions and wasted, like my youth, and yours.