|'s Blog|| | |
Part 2: Slipknots for Nooses
|Part 2: Slipknots for Nooses|
04/19/09 at 01:46 AM by BruisedxBroken
|There's a view from her window, she's seldom noticed it before; And on days like these, it seems to stretch out forever. The clouds in the sky peak open for the sun; Strange, how she's never seen it quite the same way...|
Yesterday, she was dead inside; She tried to end her anguish with self-mutilation. She'd do anything to kill all the thoughts in her head. [She'd even kill herself, if that's what it takes]. She ties slipknots for nooses with shoe laces and string, and hangs them from her dresser; "This is how I remind myself that I'm worthless". Apathetic and cold, and the stories that she's told would put chills up your spine. [Leave you rendered speechless]. Temporarily paralyzed by depression and anxiety, trying to find a balance, but she's always unsteady. And her heart beats rapidly when he enters the room; "He" introduces himself with an obvious pseudonym. Her eyes hide the pain and the mess she's made, while inviting all the sick thoughts running through his head. And her mind starts to wander while he ravishes, his hands wrapped around her neck are cold and aggressive. The clock on the wall chimes at two thirty five, he finishes off and lifts himself to his feet. She cries inside but the brave face shows. He walks to the door that revolves all night. One after another; Same twisted desires. New names and faces, but those are all irrelevant. And for the hell of it, a cigarette. A shot. A line. A hit of something to hallucinate and make it through the night.
There's a view from her window, that gives sight, to candy coated skylines and textured sunlight. Days like these are more frequent now; One day she'll get high and never come back down...
This morning, she felt so alive. She hid the scars on her arm and took a walk outside. But as she stepped off the curb, the weather started changing. The rain fell hard and the sky turned black. The street lights died with a flicker and flash. The buildings disappeared into nothing but ash. The ringing in her ears just wouldn't go away. She kept picking at her skin, in spite of the stinging. And with filthy fingernails, from clutching to the concrete. She's back home now, but it's still a long way down; The bathtub baptizes, cleanses her shame. She cries real tears but doesn't make a sound. [The most painful thing that she will ever experience]. The hours pass by and she starts to purge. She picks herself up and starts running in circles. She's aimless, shameless, and her memory lacks. She makes a call from her bedroom and soon "He's" back. And for the hell of it, a cigarette. A shot. A line. A hit of something to hallucinate and make it through the night.
There's a window in her room, ever so inviting. And she still ties nooses every now and then...