The pieces I have deleted

Posted on Posted in Stories

Receiving help from other’s compassion. Or just for their superficially felt burden?  No one looks at people’s pain in their eyes. Not knowing what I feel other than desperation to which one dies. My closed off run for, better a blade to my throat  But nobody listens to me I’m dead no expressions on my face no feeling and I pay the bill for it. Apathy is my best friend is the only trick I know to win the game. If you do not see my feelings you cannot hurt me into not being sane I want to I scream; tough I can’t as I can’t love and I can’t run off. Frustrations Memories Illusions I light a cig. A life of which blade does not cut more than  all that does not speak. To make me I’m capable but now it’s just a bold thought Turn the page, start again. Always as it is so, I wake up and I’m still here I close my eyes, I see my past missing pieces, I wiped them out I do not want to remember how it hurts. A clenched fists to tight teeth biting, erasing memories like feelings blurring in my mind. When I was just a teenager, when I was in love, sick in love, then I changed Hopes dreams and utopias; where forces were only madness. Loneliness accentuates manias; At the foreshortening of the thought coming, it happens, as ways being shown, in the consistence of the quality owned. The expected seen, is based on how it might, and would have been, with its context and ways to fix. Then I met a special person who gave love to me; I remember the smile; in my heart it turned wild into oblivion, the suffering , giving me strength to keep me going so as not to forget these devastating years of devastations in tears as drops of poison so as not to lose hope and to have me cope near in this distance. China (Benedetto)