Chemical-Insanityy

You are Robert Frost nights spent Curling toes around fires and Drowning our sorrows behind cracked smiles And wishing for better times, While I am stormy winters Of monochrome greys and Sleepless men who Can't be jovial because They just don't know how, Like I just don't know how. But you love me for it anyways, Though the flaws shine Through this cracked porcelain and I wish I was whole so that I could love with E v e r y S i n g l e Part of my soul because You deserve no less than that, You goddess you, And I can't ever amount to The paramount expectations that I have for myself, For you.

<this is my attempt at a prose piece.> i love the screeches of guitars, the "thrum, thrum, thrum" of the bass as it stills my heart and freezes my lungs. it's a wonderful grip of asphyxiation, something i can't let go of. in those moments, i am numb, i am free. in those moments, i float away. in those moments i am a filled expanse of power chords. my arteries drip music notes, my brain pulses, "thrum, thrum, thrum", and my ears ring. my soul is the holy shrine for rock and roll, and i give myself up willingly. the longer this goes on, the number i become, until i finally s l i p away from reality, into a world of music notes and guita

May 7th, 1992 In Room Seven of the Hutchingson Laboratory, a woman was screaming. Her sounds were guttural, at times rising to deafening octaves before falling to a hushed whisper again, and she whimpered as one of the doctors patted her leg softly. "Almost there, dear," he said. "Just keep pushing." The woman screamed in response as another contraction hit her, and her hand tightened even more around her husband. Her hand turned white as his turned red, and he bit his lip to keep from yelping. "Come on, honey, you can do this." He urged her, and almost bit off his tongue as she squeezed his hand again. Again, the woman screamed in response.