new writing idk abt anything else rn

"Desk Job"

it never happened if you can forget, but once its a habit then things start to slip,

and days you watch from the sides, a still photo you edit to life,

but its not the same as when you weren't in your head, before dirty tap, plastic and lead,

it leaves a mark if you try to take it with you, you try to relive it but living is the issue,

so its glass to my cheek, and drywall that creaks,

between painful shoes and business suits, the time ive spent in empty rooms

it takes to much hate, that i cant concentrate, and it manifests in constant pains on the back of face, that i cant really place except for the ache,

and i cant feel my knees and i keep changing dreams, im here and not really here not awkward just incomplete,

if a single tear falls they win, because crying will dry out my skin,

i need to get over it quick and not let them in,

because who needs a love when they have her tied up, she swears its for fun,

but i hate her and want her to be okay, i hate that i let her get away,

the suspense and the idle, post suicidal kind of thoughts that would get to me, but now its my back thats killing me,

so file it somewhere that i took too long to recover, they talk and talk "they don't work well with others"

its just weak and useless what i was cut out for, so i think you should cut me some more.

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