All I have right now is this violent dark soul sucking need to connect
To be seen, to be known
And I could go out and spread my bleak nihilism
Drown in physical desires
And wake empty
Each night more empty than the last
Each touch just a step away from oblivion
But it’s not what I want
I want that lasting connection
These touch memories linger with me forever
Burning my mind and fill me with yearning
They seem to be so vital
But the night ends
And what is left but the annihilation of self
In the persuit of nothing
I’m tired of fighting for substance and coming up short
I’m tired of finding people who are vital and pushing them away with the raw need that pours out
Don’t try so hard, be yourself. Which fucking one? I’m only comfortable when I know chapter and verse, when I know specifically where we stand and how likely something more, always more, is. Do I just accept that it’s zero?
As fear and anxiety eat away at my calm, as the reality of being alone sets fucking in. Don’t be desperate. I’m fucking drowning, how the fuck else am I supposed to to feel?
Be yourself? My self is a fucking high strung artist who fucked up his past, and doesn’t see a clear way to a viable future. That’s fucking sexy that is.
And truth, just be honest. What percent honest can you fucking handle? Cause no one wants a hundred percent.
Fuck, fuck! FUCK!
I’m just screaming into the void and hoping it matters