The slaughterhouse

Too big, too small, too much to exist or too nothing at all, an eternity spend thinking upside down and its somehow that’s the balance that we all strive to have.High from the feeling of blood rushing into my head not from feeling but from being too numb.arch in the back, and if i learnt anything is that how to make my hair straight enough to be laying down in a graveyard and how to make my Ora glaring but not too fucking glaring for your own comfort.

Fucking raw meat in a slaughterhouse. The idea of being an extension, that we’ve been told that we should live on one dimensional level, dehumanize your soul to exist,putting down others just to see your self as enlightened as you ought to be , it’s easy to become resigned to the fact that this is who you are,If you ever seen a quirky movie, glaring problems would stare at you,what is so unappealing that you want to differentiate yourself from others ? so you try to lift burdens on weak knees, shaky voices trebling to fit in long hair to hide bruises ,wounds.. .

Praying for warmth in collarbones while you visualize vulnerability and melancholy and how they really work well together and you think this is it . Redemption !because nothing has changed , i would rather be praying for the rain under mountains or swim in the oceans, watch the sun corrupt the pain, desperately reaching trying to find a little bit of rope than to look for control in an ever ending shrinking waste.

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