at night the sandman sends me pretty things in unconsenting dreams.

so i know nobody asks for my shit poetry lmao.

i just wanna take a second to thank tildes for being a place for me to get shit off my chest.

i wrote a comment on another site earlier today about catharsis, artistic expression, and depression. and it really made me appreciate the little community we've got going here.

i have a feeling it's the same 5-6 people who upvote my posts whenever they come through, and i love you six to hell and back.

i doubt i'd even get that kinda traction anywhere else.

thank you for the support.

thank you for letting me vent.

much love.

bishop.

it's 3:11 like
the band you like
remember dancing
under flashing lights
ripped off your bra
threw it up high
heading home, arm in arm
what a night
i couldn't see it i
guess i was blind
fetish for pain meant
you loved a fight
you came the loudest
when you held the knife
and drove deep into
my chest that night.

you held me close
and kissed me soft
sat in your lap
and gently rocked
empathic smile and
a lying tongue
you made a promise
that we'd still talk.
behind your back you
held a loaded gun
pulled the trigger took
off in a run
into his arms
into the sun
things are getting dark
in our garage.

dysthymia
is in my blood
and i cant end
it soon enough
but i just do not
have the guts
yet.
water my tongue
with shitty rum
and pray that i
will find the one
and she'll still love
me when i'm drunk
and
dysthymia
i'm getting high
and i don't really
wanna die
it's just i never
feel alive
man
dripping knife
a sacrifice
mr. sandman
please be nice
i don't wanna
see her face
now

it's 3:11 and
i'm home alone
asking questions
that nobody knows
should i buy
some xans
buy
some coke
would i be upset
if i overdose
it's been some months
and still here i am
hooded sweater, scarred
arms, kicking cans
a black sheep,
a lost lamb
still in the kiln -
shell of a man

dysthymia
is in my blood
and i cant end
it soon enough
but i just do not
have the guts
yet.
water my tongue
with shitty rum
and pray that i
will find the one
and she'll still love
me when i'm drunk
and
dysthymia
i'm getting high
and i don't really
wanna die
it's just i never
feel alive
man
dripping knife
a sacrifice
mr. sandman
please be nice
i don't wanna
see her face
now