Alive

by living-glass

in times of despair, i feel the most hollow chimes inching and forcing their way through my ribcage; 

in times of despair, i taste the fire extinguishing off the very tip of my tongue;

in times of despair, i realise the brittlely bones that carved the silhouette of my flesh, stretched the tissues of my skin;

in times of despair, i repeat the cycle of cutting, untying and tying back ropes, ropes that are my only channels to safety; 

in times of despair, i hurt the most in places i did not know existed, and wish they did not exist;

in times of despair, i shiver the most violently infront of a blazing fire, my feet so bare, scorched by every stone on the crusts of the earth;

in times of despair, i cry the softest and bark the loudest, my voice slowly caving in on what remains of my soul; 

in times of despair, i feel my head snapping right at the top of my spine, back and forth, back and forth;

in times of despair, i think the most, my mind dashing across dimensions and crossing boundaries, over-running, over-thinking;

in times of despair, i regurgitate memories meant to be locked and hidden away at the back of my mind, out for a cold display;

in times of despair, i lit my eyes up but pushed my feet down, the gravity of the situation, against the gravity of the earth;

in times of despair, i am so jaded with the overbearing sensation of sin that i no longer gasp while drowning in murky water;

in times of despair, i crave attention yet isolation, each of my hands on crossroads, my head on the trigger;

in times of despair, i’m killing myself — from inside out. 

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