Everything sounds strange inside an empty room.

A whisper sounds like snakes hissing inside your ear

a snake hissing sounds like the wind and the wind

sounds like screaming, but there is no wind and

the only screams here come from your head.

I guess this is what it’s like between you and I

and I’m only just finding out that this room’s not

so empty after all. There’s ash stuck beneath

my sole, and my footprints tell me I’ve come from

somewhere so far away, the mountains have

grown smaller and there’s only love songs in the

air because all the birds have gone to sleep.

They’ve been asleep too long, I’m afraid they’re

all dead. The trees are bare, their arms, such

stringy, little things now. If I were a tree,

a couple of tourists about to get married would

come from foreign lands to watch the sun set

in my homeland, they’d take photographs and

pluck our flowers, they’d eat our food and carve

their names upon my flesh, believing this would

turn them immortal. But trees die, and love dies.

And if I were a tree, I’d wrap my roots around

my chest and squeeze and squeeze because

everything sounds strange inside an empty room.


You made me feel everything so
strongly. I wonder if depression
seeks out people who are like
amplifiers so that everything gets
turned up. I was a slow river and
you came at me like a flood and
somehow I knew I couldn’t take
you for long, but you made me
feel alive. As you left, you told
me my sadness took up all the
space and there was nothing
left for you. And maybe I need
to find someone that fits better,
but I miss the way you made me
raging; I miss the way you made
me feel everything.
—  anne, overfilled

"Oh can you tell I haven’t slept very well since the last time that we spoke, please understand I’ve been drinking again and all I do is hope. Please stay"

Stay, Mayday Parade

The thing is… I don’t feel anything right now.
I’m not happy but I’m not sad.
I’m not angry nor am I hurt.
I don’t know how to answer when someone asks “How are you?”
Because I’m fine.
I feel disconnected from this beautiful world.
I don’t want to die,
but I can’t find the point of living anymore.
—  trying to explain my thoughts
I constantly have to remind myself to do little things—to eat, to breathe, look both ways before crossing the street: It’s not a matter of forgetfulness, but what you are supposed to do when your survival instincts begin to fail.
—  A.S.
I feel empty somedays, most days actually. I sit at the edge of my bed and stare at my hands and at the walls, so confused. I look in the mirror and all I see is him. I see the lips that he once kissed, I see the eyes that bled tears for him ,I see the cheeks he used to make blush. I don’t want to see him anymore. I wish I could erase every trace of him from my my mind and from my soul. It’s not fair that even though he’s not present in my life, he still has full control over my sanity and my well being.
Watch on neutral-being.tumblr.com

finding my way out of the labyrinth 

hello!! this is the first spoken word/slam poem i’ve written in nearly a year, and i’m pretty proud of it. there’s a lot of rambling at the beginning & if you don’t want to hear it just skip to about two minutes in. i hope u enjoy. :+)