deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Build Ups

Peeling back
layers
of excuses
over a period of
months and years
and we're too late.

Pulling and twisting
the nails
out the coffins
we like to prick ourselves
like we're cushions,
because we love to feel the pain.

Pressure builds up
along my spinal cord
and
the build
up
the build-up's
making me have a panic attack.

Its too early to tell
if I'm going to ever feel well
or if this is all gonna
stick around
permanently.

Climbing distant towers.
Never clinging, and never begging
for stable surface -
tension.
Depression.
Its all bottled up and closed down tight.
Recognition.
Its all in the rear view.
I no longer care which direction
I run to
it's all brand new,
and thats enough for me.
Written by Dreamboy
Published
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