My broken, rusted machine. (go back »)

The feeling of defeat dripping like an IV through me, slowly killing everything that is good. Killing all the things that make anything feel right.

Slowly pumping through the machine turning all the blood to rust. And the machine keeps working so hard and the pressure keeps building. It screams and hisses in pain.

The excruciating pain in my chest. The pressure building. The screaming. And no one but me can hear it. The calm, collected look on my face hides it. No one can hear it. Only I feel it. No one else knows the machine inside of me is breaking... not even you.

And it sits in my chest all covered in rust. It sits broken into pieces not working. It keeps me from feeling. It keeps me from wanting. My broken, rusted machine. My broken, rusted heart. I will fix the damn thing myself. Not even you know.