Kasami-Kat

 tell me more, about the nights you can't sleep and the days you waste sleeping and rotting in your bed that's reeking of rancid sweat and your perfume. tell me more, about the hours you waste picking at your skin and nails and teeth and hair until you bleed and haven't got anything left to pick at but sores. tell me more, about your visions of god and his following and the devil's footsteps and government conspiracy that comes for you specifically when you haven't the slightest idea why. tell me more, about your background chatter of conversations you can't piece together and idle noises and nuisances that ruin your day. tell me more, a

 because you claim to be a shell disgusting and revolting and filled with a want to die step away from the desk and leave your warm home. step into the outside and feel the air step on the pavement and run your feet raw your lungs will burn and ache and you'll fall asleep and wake up somewhere in someone's yard scream your lungs raw run your feet raw jump from the balcony and before you die, feel pain from the outside and starken the contrast of physical and feeling learn relief and give it time before you die, feel and learn what it means to live.

 when i think about you i cry there isn't bitterness nor is there any sadness just a sense of remorse and a lot of 'i miss you a lot,' and 'i love you so much,' and 'please stay healthy and happy.' when i think about you i want to gush and tell the nearest person about your absolute majesty and that you're absolutely lovely and the temptation to get teary-eyed comes up it's an overwhelming sense of love and adoration, admiration at its sides and edges, fluffly and wide-mouthed grinning, with giggling under my breath when i try to get the words out to describe your majesty and that you're lovely when i think about you i want to cry

 you were precise legs up at an angle, chin angled to the side smile, sweetheart, you're on camera you were immaculate teeth glimmering white your bones were glass and your skin was bone china tougher than the bones inside your body   and exoskeleton for a caricature of a person you were pristine rouge and paint and laquer hit you in the face too hard with too much perfume enough to make you want to gag out absolutely nothing while you played at tea with the idea of being you were perfect fingers drenched in viscous, congealed found-her-too-late blood you muttered to yourself that you wouldn't be so messy next time you you were

you only wanted to help bright eyed and bushy-tailed and shaking in the fingertips and sometimes your lower lip bit out and salt-cracked you opened your mouth and admitted you only wanted to help a touch more nervous and still bright as ever (may the sun one day reach your eyes again) you smiled brightly and leaned to a side the epitome of naivety and innocence and told us for your life's goals you only wanted to help driven and motivated and outgoing as ever, in the midst of foreign lands, always some source of inspiration for those around you, tongues be damned you told them in your broken speaking that you were here as you only w

 you are, simply- existing have not left the house in who knows how long and have not spoken to anyone but those among your home in who knows how long and do not want to change any time soon despite having too many opportunities to do so and the potential to do things to further yourself into something better believe me, when i tell you it might've been good for you

 i am tired and surrounded by immense confusion (on the matter of myself, yourself, and the rest of us out here) and i will not go to bed until i am quite sure that the darkness is not palpable and there is nothing there because no matter how long it's been i am still terrified of the dark i am tired and surrounded by paranoia rising and falling in something reminiscently bellicoso the fear of things unknown and the fear of things known and the idea that you cannot trust even the people you want to call friends i am tired and drowning in pools of honeyed tea and sadness that i might not make anything for myself and absurd fear of the fut