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There is something horrid when your own mind holds you back from things you enjoy simply because your day to day life makes you want to tear the world apart until you see you person you care about most. For me it is my fiance, Kelly, I am always waiting for... just so sick of my job and where I am in life.
I just want to come home, listen to music, read and write literature here on deviant art, and occasionally play some video games online. My day exhausts me, and I feel like doing nothing too often.
I get home and want to fuck off.
And on my couch I sit.
I'll flip on the laptop and go over the pointlessness, the random sites and the emails.
I don't find the energy.
Sick of it, sick of myself.
I don't change it.
I find the energy to dinner ready.
Just looking forward to seeing her.
Just looking down on myself,
can't hide from my mind.
I just sit fighting the thoughts I don't want to have,
Idon't really know whether to hate,
what I have become.
This is why I need to make sure I do these things,
the things that can keep my off of this.
I just so fucked up every moment;
its why I need her so much.
And on my couch I sit.
I'll flip on the laptop and go over the pointlessness, the random sites and the emails.
I don't find the energy.
Sick of it, sick of myself.
I don't change it.
I find the energy to dinner ready.
Just looking forward to seeing her.
Just looking down on myself,
can't hide from my mind.
I just sit fighting the thoughts I don't want to have,
Idon't really know whether to hate,
what I have become.
This is why I need to make sure I do these things,
the things that can keep my off of this.
I just so fucked up every moment;
its why I need her so much.
I am not dead, yet...
I am back, sort of... going to try to be around again.
To those that will notice.
I guess I am about to return.
I am dumping all of my writings from my teenage/college years into my Deviant Art Vault right now. I have just lost the urge to post them anymore, and I don't want to be reminded that I never finished sharing them all. They will remain in my Deviant Art Vault in case I change my mind one day. All of my writings from more recent years will remain up as well as any tributes I have written.
I am going to start sharing some writings I have made in the passed couple years that I haven't shared yet. I will be making an attempt soon to make a comment on at least one writing of the writers I watch here on Deviant Art.
This.
This sickness is haunting me.
This thirst for blood.
This rage.
This image of vileness in front me. Everything in me becoming rage, I want to lash out. Tear limb from limb. Reach my fingers in their mouth, clasp the bottom jaw, rip their throat out. Beat them with their own arms. Roar. My vision is crimson with my blood vessels coating my eyes with my own plasma.
This is too close to becoming constant only replaced by my wretched recurring dreams or the comfort of the one I love.
This is only made more bearable when I listen to my music, closing my eyes and truly embracing a daydream of this rage in action. This is what I do almost daily
My Life is Ash
The visibility is found wanting; the ash falls, and this is another familiar, casual stroll. There is burn underneath my bare feet that chills my spine; my legs hurt from pushing the layers of ash and detritus as my feet take every step. I am a tall man, but there was never a time when I was the tallest object the eye can see. I look up, and all I see is the familiar ash falling. I can smell ozone; the lightning is always here, but the rain never comes. The day becomes the most brilliant that it can provide; there are the faint hues of orange, yellow and red through the ash. The afternoon sun has become another dusk.
All day long, I run my h
© 2013 - 2024 Zevais
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