Insane.

Insane.

Empty bed reminding me the screams that fill my head,feels like a dream,but i can't let go of it's reality. The thread of it,slowly becomes thin. Hitting the point where i lost my voice,can't be capable of screaming anymore.

The sheets cover my insanity,there are my fears hiding,hugging me cause they don't want me to go outside in this repeating society.

With these emotions i became insane.

More Posts from Leftinblasphemy and Others

3 years ago

Sometimes i start to realize how hard is in one relationship. But if you love this person the most,don’t let him go.

2 years ago
“Ph'nglui Mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh Wgah'nagl Fhtagn.In His House At R'lyeh Dead Cthulhu Waits Dreaming.”
“Ph'nglui Mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh Wgah'nagl Fhtagn.In His House At R'lyeh Dead Cthulhu Waits Dreaming.”

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.” H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu House of R'lyeh by Talon Abraxas

4 years ago

Знаете ли, че според някои определени хора, “сродните души“ се срещат в нашия свят за кратко, но никога не се женят. Причината за това е, че ако две такива души се отдадат една на друга те ще се саморазрушат.

- Взето от една книга.

3 years ago

Poet is a storm.

I am writing in directions hoping to find the answer,

losing myself in a spiral of unworthiness,

my crazy mind recreated loneliness.

I needed to release the chaos with word,

moulding them into power coming

through a heart of glass that's glowing.

Formed a shape that only words

could come through a mind,

shaving the mud from my arms

to distract the miserable feeling

that caught me off guard.

I myself am not the best writer,

but if my poetry was made of gold,

If my soul burns in fire (motivation),

then i'm proud to be a storm.

-t.f.s.


Tags
3 months ago

С последния си дъх

ще погълна всичко

за да мога да живея

да остана , да мечтая

в очи - вселени с

милиони галактики ,

живеят в тялото ми ,

ликуват в душата ми

с последния си дъх .


Tags
5 years ago
Via Weheartit

via weheartit

4 months ago

Сенрю 1

Цветове в танц-

струйна кръв по хълмове

очите зреят .

Сенрю 1

-t.f.s.


Tags
2 years ago

Growing out of ideas

Is like drinking an empty cup,

Forgetting what is real,

Forgetting how it hurts.

Another motion thrown

In curiousity to burn

pages that never opened.

It is time.. for the other side.

—T.F.S.


Tags
4 years ago

“Passion changes it, the depth and timbre of voice, the sound of your name.”

— Haiku on Life by Tyler Knott Gregson

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