Senseful-Surgery

You stand among trees made of human flesh, all differing in slight variations- but none so much as to cast a lasting impression. Some are beautiful, yes, but they are more similar to flowers. By winter's first breath, they shall be forgotten. The wind echos with clamor- a symphony of voices rumbling together, harmonizing into what can only be described as chaos. Children laugh, children scream- you hear the odd parent's voice scold, whilst most gossip and boast. Under your toes is grass made of marble, cold and unloving- just as the trees that surround you. Skies of glass and monochromatic beams to support this world's foundations- everythin

It's not that hard of a question, is it? Why am I a boy? Why am I a boy, despite having a vagina? Despite willingly, though to some emotional distress, also going by female terms? What makes me a boy? Well, I suppose this can be answered by another question; What makes you a man? Men are (supposedly); Brave, valiant, powerful and confident. Chained by sloth, wrath, greed and pride, Men are impulsive- and dangerous when angered. Women are (supposedly); Beautiful, delicate, submissive yet enduring. Caressed by envy, lust, and a wrath only scorn can conspire, Women are cunning- and ever so admirable. But I am neither man nor woman, I am a bo

Sometimes when I'm home alone, I have random bouts of panic and anxiety. I start to breathe heavy,and I listen to myself. I memorize how I breathe, familiarize with the way the sound reverberates in my enclosed room- and then I cut myself off mid-breath. As you'd expect, usually I don't hear anything other then the average noises of a house. Sometimes though, I still hear something breathing.

I lay in bed and think of you, I wonder if you do too. I touch your world, I feel your life. I give you all of myself, and I become you. I am Juniper, Goddess of Death. I am Joden, Hopper of the ethereal plane. I am Seisora, I am Irotei. I am the embodiment of true misery. I love my dearest fiance' Clover, for she is the only one who cares. I love neither Charles nor Jake, for this life is a simple nightmare. I hate my brother, and my brother hates me, because we love each other but life just isn't fair. I see the universe as I have created it, I smell and taste the cuisine of the countries that don't exist. I hear my children's cries, I

Anxiety, paranoia, phobia... they all follow the same pattern. Regret, fear, and distrust- all for good reason. Every time I tell myself, "I'm being silly.", I get proof I'm right to be so timid. Today, I walked down the street, the same street I always walk down, and just two blocks away from my usual panic-attack I saw you. By you, I mean my friend, not my enemy. I mean my friend who abandoned me, forgot me, and hated me. I looked you in the eye, I looked you in the mind. I read surprise, anger, hate, and a tinge of your usual idiocrisy. I wonder, what did you read from me? The evil eye? The misery I hide? What did you see when I look

Thank you for trusting me, Thank you for annoying me. Thank you for forcing yourself into my life, and teaching me how life can really be an anime. Thanks for all the laughs, jokes, and drama, Thanks for letting me be the tsundere I am. Thanks for cracking open my shell, and letting yourself in, and thanks for all the moments we shared. I know you abandoned me, and sided with my antagonist, I know you killed yourself off from my story. I know you hate me, and talk shit about me for no reason, but even knowing that, I want you to know that I love you. Not in the romantic way, but in the way only true best friends could share. I know I yelled

It's nothing special, It's nothing romantic. It's not kind, nor considerate- strong, nor brave. It's sensible in the least, to avoid harming children. Innocent and pure, the bystanders stay. It's nothing much, Nothing inspirational, Nothing great, nor anything special. It's not smart, nor friendly, understanding, or loving. It's right, easy, and painful. It's basic sense, miserable, and lonely.

Tied by a noose called a leash, I crawl on all fours, a baby stuck in a niche, The tones a politician uses to announce the death toll, It carves into my chest, and for what goal? How do I put a value to my life? Would it even be worth all the strife? In the end, a wife? a knife? It doesn't matter anyways. Hanging in a private place, Just out of the publics gaze, If  I could count all the tears I cried I would have probably lied. If the rope could be just a little bit tighter, I'm sure, it wouldn't have mattered. Choking in and choking out, The breaths I no longer count- Hanging in the lonesome universe, It wasn't worth the fare of the