Sprawled out on the bed, face down on a pillow
My fist against a headboard
The only thing I want to do is smash it swiftly with force against the grain until the side is black and bruised
Or maybe I'll just punch it through the window.
I just want to feel a pain other than the emptiness throughout me
The black mass that has made a home inside myself.
But something holds me back
I'm crying because I missed class
But maybe I'm also crying because everything around me seems to remain in a stationary position
The furniture in the house, the people sitting in the furniture in the house
It never changes
Here I am in participation now
Lying in this bed, crying in this bed
A part of everything I try to avoid
Yet I feel as though the avoidance may be unavoidable
In a house where the black mass lives
No matter how hard your hustle, or how well you try to escape it
You may turn into nothing more than a stationary person
In a house where the black mass lives
Points: 60
Reviews: 200
Donate