bending sideways

I am drained with what I do to myself. 

I try very hard to make the ends meet beginnings, 
So I do not fall between the gaps of a stagnant being, 
I try very hard to keep my world from 
Quakes and a faceless pain, 
Pushing plates down until they have to crack. 
I still lose control of myself 
And I still lose control of the love I 
Try very hard to place in your hands 
For your keep, 
It is sometimes such a struggle 
Watching you look at it and frown at its 
Sudden obscurity, 
Like you sometimes cannot comprehend 
All I give to you. 

I still lose control of myself 
With my sick paranoia and 
The body of a sore, sore mind 
That never has enough time to rest 
Because of all the time I owe to the world 
As it swallows me by the seconds. 

I will wake up clenching my head and 
Writhing down the sheets now 
Drenched in sweat 
And tell myself "it's just another day". 

I bent forward and move around the slice of happiness 
I have been chewing on for its succulence, 
letting the taste gradually turn bitter before it slides down my throat into 
Thick, black drops of disguise, 
Like liquorice. So I bend 
backwards and wonder why I suddenly feel 
Top-heavy and unsure if 
everything is alright. 

There are days when I don't need to force myself to smile because things are 
A perfect fit 
And you will look at the love 
I try very hard to place in your hands 
Pulsating and growing for space bigger than 
Its own capacity, 
Like you've known it forever. 
And then there are days when I will really 
Really, really wish I was 
Better. 
For myself and better for 
You, 
And wished for a second 
I remember what it was like to not care 
When people walked in and out of my life. 

Detachment is something I can easily do with death, like acceptance, 
Like a friend I have known but never met for a long while, 
Yet pick up from where we left off 
At the next encounter. 

I cannot detach from you, 
For you are the familiarity of now, 
And I cannot make you the familiarity of 
Forever, 
For you are more than a memory, 
Part of the entire being of myself I possess, 
For you, for the world, for my presence. 

I am drained with all the things I do to myself. 

The fragments of my mind 
I never piece back together for fear of 
Breaking again.