my captcha says tupto, which could be toptop if he actually knew how to speak 

i. my head is filled with faded grey clouds, the kind you see on a day when the rain has just stopped but the sun doesnt come

ii. the streets are lifeless and smudged as you stare out from an apartment window, dirty rainwater trailing down the glass- the hopelessness of it all makes you want to cry

iii. the sky is like a canvas, white with fog and streaked with dirty grey just like everything else, waiting for someone to come paint fake blue happiness over it

iv. the people flitting through the city streets are clenching umbrellas and staring at the ground as they hurry, running from place to place but never getting anywhere

v. there's a dull red glow from cars sludging along the highway, windsheild wipers flicking absently even though the glass is clean

vi. the clocks tick on, black hands moving monotonously and everything fitting into the same rotuine, the empty grey sky a background to it all

vii. you're wearing headphones but nothing is playing, you just sit, wrapped in a blanket that provides no warmth as the world keeps going

viii. inhale, the air tasting like fog and misery, misty oxygen filling you up like a balloon- you don't let it out, afraid you'll float away

ix. the only sound is the muted whisper of the wind as the world holds its breath, waiting for something that wont come

x. everything is still.

hot tears come down

everything is

pressure

run

except you cant 

this is 

Real Life

please 

let me go

they dont care

they hate us 

dont tell me what you 

think i have

i dont 

i want to escape

let me escape

let me be free 

its too much now

stop talking 

lies

what would you know

im different and

too angry 

bye 

The whole whole never stops moving

It's always shifting, broken pieces

Sliding into place, distorting light

Like a huge kaleidoscope of sorts.

Everyone seems to flow by me

Like I'm a rock and they're the drops of water

That fill the river and make me feel small

But never small enough.

I wish instead of a bulky rock

I were a grain of sand, like so many others;

My existence would be overlooked

And I would fit right in, and it would be worth it. 

I see people meet and greet each other,

I see crowds passing by, laughing;

I feel like a ghost, like a sad reflection,

Like I'm the only one frozen in time.

On my own.

It is

Moments like these

That I realise

Something--

That I

Really know nothing

Of the cruel world

Out there. 

My safe

Little bubble of a mind

Gets popped

And

Suddenly

I can feel the lashing winds

Of politics and injustices

And misery.

It is

When my own little bubble-world

Is affected that I can open

My eyes for real,

And see

That even my little safe space

Wasn't even really that safe

In the first place. 

I can't trust them.

But I always try.

And it always gets me hurt. 

That's just how the world is for me.

I do my best to look beyond

My cynicism and biases and preconceived notions.

But I'm always right the first time. That's the problem.

I let myself settle in.

Sure, it's uncomfortable now, but they're not as bad as I think.

Right?

Right...? 

Wrong.

I can trust them because they're family

Or do great things

Or act so nice.

But no. 

Sometimes it hurts

Because I never would have thought

Someone so good could also be so bad.

Sometimes I makes me bitter;

I tried to defend you, but now you've stabbed me in the back

And proved to everyone else they're right and I'm a bad judge of character,

But usually it just slaps in the face

Because I knew the second I laid eyes on them

But, because of my self-doubt, shot myself in the foot.

And you,

You are one of those people? 

How could I not hate you too? 

Oh wait, I do. 

Sometimes something sad creeps in.

I remember stuff that happened too long ago

For anyone else to remember.

Or suddenly long for someone or something

That doesn't exist anymore.

I wish I had something fun or exciting to do.

Or that there was someone else to talk to. 

I talk too much.

Not with my mouth, though;

With a pen or keypad.

But the words I say 

Are never enough to cure

The problem that got me writing.

They're still too much

For everyone else though.

Should I just go? 

Sometimes I fell as if

It's already too late.

I've already missed the train,

And even though you're standing

Right in front of me

I can't shake the feeling

That your mind is miles away

Speeding ever-further out of reach. 

The gap between us

Seems to widen imperceptably,

But I feel the earth shaking beneath us

And I know that soon enough a huge chasm

Will spread forth and swallow one of us whole.

If it's me, 

That's alright.

It was too late for me anyway.

I wasn't meant to struggle the overworld

And likely couldn't have borne it any longer. 

If it's you

I won't mourn either.

I will watch with sad eyes and let you fall into a new world;

Far away where you can find new adventures on your own.

Knowing that doesn't make it any easier 

When I feel my senses wretched about like a leaf on a strong gale,

But at least I'll keep that in mind,

And I won't hold it against anyone at all. 

Now all there is to do is wait

For the fall. 

The world slips

And suddenly everything seems

Askew;

Uncomfortable, unfortunate

And terribly blue.

Wonder how to fix it,

but how can someone someone so small

Make any any difference at all?

What to do, oh, what to do...? 

Ink

Seeps in

To Everything 

You hate

Yourself, that's why

You're here

In the place we call

The Void

What about

La Jaula,

You ask?

Darling, a cage can only

Hold for 

So long

But the Void

Will hold forever

Something cracks inside

Too tired to continue 

On, broken and lost.

When my brush flies

Across the canvass

It feels like the world

dissappears sometimes;

I don't have to worry about

My growling stomach

Or achy eyes and neck

And even the pain in my wrists goes away.

Well, that's not entirely true.

It just makes it easier for me 

To run away from all those things,

Pretend that they don't exist

And that that's not me and my life.

It should be worrying that I can't feel anything

But instead it's just relieving to be free

Even if I have to return to Real Life far too soon

And slump back into the Void inside my room. 

To think

You care so much more

About a few squiggles on a page

Than me, your child.

I guess I knew;

You're always like this,

But I'm getting sort of tired of it.

I'm not angry though, I get it. 

That's a lie, 

I'll never understand

How you can try to trade a life

For this kind of thing. 

But I suppose

I just doesn't really matter anymore

So, goodbye, then

I guess. 

Final project due

Stress-knitting does not work well

Help I'm dying ahhh