Corpse like contemplation

I seem to have let go of what ever it was that I was so desperately holding onto... That thing that was supposed to make all of this mean something, mean anything... Maybe it was this, tiny pathetic point of reason, of justification that allowed the rest of myself to wither away into nothing- until finally when I pried my sweaty little fingers open to reexamine exactly what that was- I realized that it was just air, just open emptiness instead of solid fact and form... It was nothing that i held onto, and thus I had become such.

It was merely addiction that held me in sway, and I'm sure it still does; what it replaces in my life I'm not exactly sure though I'm aware it exists and I'm aware that it continues to hold something for me. I don't know why it needs to be. I don't know why I continuously seem to follow any kind of rhyme or reason at all, when all sense of integrity, honesty, selfless existence has completely eradicated itself from my life within who I am and how I fitted into the network of important people or valued anyone or anything but myself.

I claimed I could love, I claimed I found love but I am thinking that too is a lie, when I finally pause for a moment of breath to discover that I've not been home in over a month, I've completely missed my best friends birthday, allowed the only female friend I've managed to keep in continuum for two years completely in the dark to my safety or whereabouts and my own boyfriend seems as far away in mind and in respect as my mind can dream...

Where did my sense of morality go? Can I actually feel any truth at all?
When I find this figment of importance, I shall let you all know... Until then I guess you should go about your business knowing that at least I'm aware of the empty corpse of a human I have become, and allow me to rot silently in peace without it effecting any of you; because I'm afraid that if I allow any importance to fall on anything or anyone I'll relentlessly self sabotage until it is turned into something I hate more than myself... And if I hate anything more than myself I might just be able to continue to lie that I'm not as bad as that which I despise thus giving me excuse to continue living like I do free of guilt from some self imposed delusion of an acceptable existence.

Skinnegeist lost, faith falls

things seems to crumble and fall away in my hands these days... When did everything I know and love begin to hurt so much? When did the laughter fall away into streams of acidic tears that slowly erode my skin to ash as they drip down a face of steel- to the true layers underneath?
When did one have to delve so far to truly see what exists within my soul?

Do I have one of these anymore? A spirit that flows and beats with my heart? Or has the rope that tied me to this world finally worn free; for my inner self to walk away from the physical realm knowing that these legs can't carry me to god anymore?
Where is God these days anyway? Can he see this poison spread through me and over me?
Acid wasted. Money gone.
A smile turns to shitty poetry in a desperate moment, where cigarettes and desperate actions are all that remain?

Fetish website profiles, bad code names and a terrible lax in the effort required to conceal what a simple 19 year old girl with a curious mind could uncover?
If you are going to lie, lie well; and make sure your web doesnt stick to you first...

Like the great black widow spider- I have had my way with this mess... Now I will lay my eggs within its bowels and let them slowly eat their way out to beautiful freedom. There is no such thing as control in this world, and some are about to see just the kind of anarchy a young innocence can truly bear. Wait until the sirens call, sing all you want- I will not hear what you have to say.

A boy once stayed up all night and met a girl for breakfast... She stayed a while and ate some biscuits as he played with his chemistry set... She was silly to think that he could see the Great One, for it was just the light shining in the corner...
Now shes a peasant. Not a harlot, not a whore. Now she's the old crone, with a witches finger at the door. Smiling and crying, after laughing a little while, because she played a bargain poorly and she's paying with another's life. whilst he spread his lies like a serpent in the wake; she looked up- and saw the hope of the newer days.
I will return, free of Fear, and full of the blessing of purpose. My heart lies in a cavernous shell that haunts the living dead.

You can not lie to God. You cannot escape Judgement.