Ive run out

Its progressive, this degradation of the mind. Its progressed so much that I am no longer a man. I am the teen I was, used to be, well am again. Highs and lows like waves. My ship wont sing, just takes on more and more water. Making each up and down seem that much more heavier, and demented.

I sing when I'm up. Broken words of miscommunications. Distressed can be "undressed" Sexy and and bare, sculpted from indestructible existence.

I dig when I'm down. Shoveling dirt up into the air. It descends on my back as I hoarse my voice screaming into the cold dark hole below my feet.

If I was, not up, and no where near down, where am I? That would be like placing me in a house I have never been, in a town so unfamiliar, asking, "where are you?" You cant know North and West, when East and South are still a mystery. Misery. Its all miscommunication. The words are interpreted wrong, but the mutation leaves something valid.

So if you say, "Those emotions are not what you are really feeling" Your wrong. They are not what I should be feeling, but I am, so they are.

From the top of the wave I can see the sand bare at the bottom. The waves encompass all the water. That lows going to hurt and this high has made me dizzy.

I feel bad. Im sorry. Its all bad. Its not sorry. They can be bad. They're not always bad. Cant sing or scream. "I've lost my voice threw all this noise"