𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐀

push

and i push it all down. 
compact, tight, vaccuum sealed. push, push, push.
until cracks are forming, pieces breaking off.
not that that will stop me. it never does. i've learned to love watching it fall apart.
so i push, push, push.
just a little more, just a little further. 

but it'll shatter, silently, deadly, all-consumingly.
and when it does, i'll lay myself down in that dark and damp corner of my mind.
i'll be laughing, crying, going perfectly numb. i'll watch days turn into nights turn into days turn into nights, awake.
physically that is, because i won't be there to witness it.

i always come back down again.
somehow, in some way. acting like i didn't just spend an entirety beyond the veil of reality.
and thoughts start to creep in again, undesirable thoughts, bitter thoughts, chaotic thoughts, hell, sometimes pleasant thoughts.
but that's all the same to me. i want nothing to do with it. any of it. none of it.
and so i push, push, push.
push it all down. once again, and again, and again, until i'm perpetually stuck in a purgatory state of mind.