now…sink into yourself

My words have become cheap veneers to give off the illusion of an inhabited emotional landscape
I seek refuge in a hamster wheel of neurosis 
Mechanical escapism seems to postpone terror, if only for this moment

If I fall apart, if I let go of this house of cards, what will happen? Where do lost souls go? 
And whatever dimension I collapse into​, isn’t that a part of me? Why then do I feel like I’ll fall into a bottomless pit? Or like I’ll drift into space?

Perhaps whatever is railroading me into falling apart isn’t so much a threat as it is the gravity of my soul compelling me to fall back into orbit?


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