If this was a conscious act it would be ever so slightly better.
I could rebel. I could be justified.
But this is just you.
The apparent meaningless of this frightens me.
The one I hate: the one I love.
Alas, I make such bad choices.
So inept am I.
My heart will never come true.
I spent all night asleep in an empty house.
And the cold came about me
and my emotion was like a thick warm mud, keeping me hot,
and I drowning.
Filling my lungs with filth.
Coughing and spluttering.
I cried hot black tears that couldn’t clear.
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
this makes me sad..
i hate it when i can’t cry enough about things.. it feels like quicksand and you are sinking and there is no one there to pull you out.