bliss

misery

Music pounding.

How does time move, flow? It's not tangible. No matter how hard we try to ground it. Ebbs and flows. Moves in and around us. Smothers us.

Broken. Why do we find comfort in other people? Because they're more broken, do we think they hold more space for us to fit in between their broken pieces, to hide in. To take comfort in. Shielding the view of our own broken pieces, like debris, scattered all over the place, holding inside of us.

I don't have a grasp on anything - high or sober -

I want my soul to be light. To carry little - to no burdens.

I'm miserable. Bliss is an emotion I seek out. Parasitic, it's always lived within me. Oozes out of me, like thick globs of black goo.

Black veins line the inside of my heart. Grey myodesopsia shades my vision. White light bathes me in purity.

Satisfaction sits at the tip of my tongue, I can almost taste it. Closing my eyes, I swallow sweet relief moving down my throat, to settle deep down in my belly, stretching me. Fully.

I have the mouth watering intent to go after what I want.

A heaving sigh leaves my mouth - retching my spirit with it. Pooling down my exposed throat. Eyes foraging up, "Solace! Come find me! I yearn and yearn! Satiate me! Encroach me! Please God feed me", whispers sift out through hurried shivered sobs.