all my insecurities have trapped me. the doubt consumes every face i encounter, melting away kind flesh for demons.

i'm not sure if this is a sickness or if this is what the world is truly. am i the bad guy? do i gut and hollow out every relationship to feed my fears?

i don't know if i have ever truly reflected upon anything. i cannot tell what is a facade and what is real and tangible and can be investigated further. maybe i've questioned things so much i've gouged a hole right through anything worth preserving, squeezed the life right out.


can i keep mining? or will i be buried in the displacement of my search.