To the Moon and Back

Very few people know the true meaning of loss.

Very few people have grasped to a body that no longer breathes.

Very few people are able to place blame on themselves for a tragedy that’s so definite, it triggers nausea.

Very few people know what it’s like to breathe and not feel worthy of each breath.

Very few people have smelled death on a loved one whose body wash was their favorite scent.

Very few people have held on to a body that no one inhabits, just praying, hoping, and needing that person, when they’re too far into the light.

Very few people know the true meaning of loss.

I wish it on no one. It’s a pain that doesn’t lift; a life lesson with no meaning. It’s the undertow of a wave that consumes you.

Very few people know the true meaning of loss.

FLESH

Who to tell I’m not okay

I can’t fucking even explain

All I know is I feel too much

Feel so much it’s all just junk

Nothing fucking matters

And if you think it does

Gain some damn perspective

You’re so fucking small

Life’s a joke

Don’t mix that up

It seems to be too fucking much

Just wanna fuck my flaws away

Ignoring every day by day

Burn my flesh and that’s my rush

The singe, the sting, I crave that touch

The scars I wear, I love to boast

Red and flared I proved myself

Showed my pain and lack of health

Proud of nothing but self doubt

But feeling anything at all

Makes it worth the devils call

Good feelings synced w pain

Understanding my brains to blame

Weeping w no means to spill

Drowning by my own pathetic will

Defeat.

it’s something I can’t beat