Mushrooms and tiny pops,
Fungus growing deep inside,
Its too much, too loud.

Sometimes I go too  deep in my writing for others to understand
It's too much for them to take in
I'm not looking for praise
Or for money
But for expression of myself and others
So, they can relate and understand
That some of us go through things that only a dark fantasy can describe
And I'm sorry if its too much

Am hurting and cold.

And thinking, "maybe i shouldnt share and check feelings for a while again."

Take a little break.

I’m so tired
But I can’t sleep
There are a million little things
That have decided to swarm my mind
All of the things are stressing me out
I just want to sleep right now
I’m so freakin’ tired

Holding people back is worse than being worthless, it’s costly.
They pay and pay and pay but why?
Why go into debt for me?
I can’t give you anything but these broken parts.
They aren’t beautifully tragic, they aren’t something that can be turned around.
They are just pathetic and sad and I’m a weight on your ankle.
How does it feel carrying 90 pounds plus the weight of the world?
Carrying the sky has crushed me and I threw that burden onto you too.
Congratulations for getting ****** in!
Was my siren melody too much for you?
I was sure they would of shoved the plugs into your ears.
My reputation precedes me.

I sit in front of the tv
Brainwashed into thinking
That this monotonous existence
Constitutes living
I feel my mind screaming
For something more engaging
Instead of the useless stuff
Seeping from my screen
Sometimes the only breaks I take
Are just me looking from that screen
To another smaller version in my hand
I feel exhausted emotionally
Unable to engage in many things
But I refuse to give these screens
This kind of power over me
I am a human being
Not a lifeless creature
I need to find something better
To break this habit that's killing my creativity
It's killing my energy
My motivation
My attention span
And I will not have it
Not anymore
I will find something more satisfying
More promising in engagement

And then I wonder
Is this what it was like
When books were first written?
Or is this unique to electronic media?

you put everything you had into someone else
of course your soul is crying