inkskinned:

i swore i could not. the emptiness ate, and ate, and ate,

until i was succumbed to it, and i was numb to it, 
and it had nothing left to take

it is amazing how long rock bottom feels like home 
like you can go further, somehow,
a grave feels like comfort, 
like natural,

like the skin side of fish
i ate it and still was devoured by it 

but we move because we have no other corner to back into
and we move because it’s the way up

and the good news is it hurts but one day it’s worth it 
despite all and all and all, it’s worth it
because you worked yourself,
pleat after cinch

because one day you’re sitting on six thousand completed works 
and you say:

i walked up the mountain
and boy, did it flinch

inkskinned:

i asked my therapist this,

sitting on the edge of a couch, panicking,
because ocd means that you obsess about little things (if i defy the rules,
the world ends)

and she says: 
“you love him
enough
that your obsessions take a back seat”

and i say, “but
does he?”

and she says, “you love him
enough
that you talk about him in the depth of
a bad night, where everyone else would talk about
the white numbness that collides with your life:
you talk about him
because you want him to be happy
while you suffer.”

and i say: i obsess easily. I want for normal things. 

she says:
the sun obsesses about the earth, then.
no all love
is obsession.