deepundergroundpoetry.com

I'll join you. ( White Trifolium )

Tea tastes like oil.
Music sounds like screaming.
Words look like hallucinations.
I have no idea if I'm even typing this.
If this is real.
I may say sorry.
Ten cups are broken so I may
walk on glass all day long.
Mania has subsided and
depression hasn't left at it's usual hour.
Since 'father' loves Thomas the most
he moved out but not before shutting me down.
'Mother' hasn't spoken though
I am not used to the weary eyes she gives me.
He built me up, Thomas, I thought I could escpae my
life.
These damned disorders with their fucking tumors
eating his brain and drinking his life away
away
away
never to return to my hands.
He can't smile up at me when I rest his head on my lap
or
kiss me before I fall asleep because he was telling an
unforgettable story about cotton candy and lollipops.
No time to play.
No time to waste.
No time to retrack.
No time to smile.
No time to laugh.
No time to talk.
No time to write.
No time to think-except dark thoughts.
The ones that create these massive struggles
in my chest.
Do not sleep.
Wake up dearest Thomas.

You must not leave me here.

You promised.