Compulsion

I am replacing a lot of old things.  My front door.  My shower.  My bedding.  My view of myself.  I look at my old life possessions and just want something new.  Something that doesn't remind me.  Something that doesn't hold memories.  Something new that's just mine.  It's becoming something of a compulsion.

Can Not

I cannot.  Can not stop.  Why the fuck am I still like this?  Shut me down.  Shut me up.  Shut up, Erin.  Jump off your dream cliff and see if you don't wake up in time this time.

Brittle

My days run together like wild horses over the hills.  I come and go.  Fast and slow.  Tell me it will be okay again.  Don't mind when I roll my eyes.  My hope, the hope that has sustained my life is withered and brittle.    Breaking apart, breaking away and falling, unable to be found.  Like me.