reality could never compare to her delusions.

physical and mental capabilities are limited; feelings—too dulled to be effectively experienced—yearn to be enhanced.

desperation dulls her.

there's nothing left of my hope, i'm afraid. you ate it all.

she had a desire to be held, to be loved, but not here, not now, not in this body.

an imaginary occurrence, a reflection on the water's surface caught by a cheap digital camera.

an image draped in layers of grain, suspended above the heavens.

isolated, unreachable, invisible.

safe.

despair. fear. anguish.

can one run away from themselves? where does one go when the most hostile place on this earth is their own head?

cruelty twisted inwards, a barbed wire maze with no exit.

when the mind suffers, it's unfair to leave the rest of the body unscathed.

crying feels like a reward in these trying times.

this doll sought refuge in the past, venturing on lengthy trips across the fractures of her childhood.

this doll sought calm in the unknown in an attempt to kill the nauseous dregs of buried trauma.

sabotaging each other like a broken mechanism, these two were a useless duo that stifled healing.

her mind was scattered across the field of grey.

a field where nothing grows and nothing blooms; ocean trenches, drained of water.

vegetation there was a faded photo, looping endlessly in an attempt to cry, but always failing.

the sky was stale, grey, and dry. the sun was gone. the moon was dead.

she knew the taste of sadness all too well. it was viscous, sticky, sour; with a hint of sweetness to it, like that brief moment of relief after an emotional breakdown.

she grew to like it, albeit unwillingly. crave it, even. it's wrong to feel any other kind of way.

forced addiction.
#emptyspaces

voracious sadness gnaws at her. turns out, dolls are nothing but a temporary solution for the lonely.

they all are soon to be replaced.

replaced by flesh, replaced by sin. replaced by those who dolls were made to imitate.

she is to be discarded after use. but she still loves you.
#emptyspaces

daily she bore five possible futures, only for every single one of them to be stillborn.

monthly she prayed to forget, only to cement the pain in her mind even further.

annually she tried to escape, but her fear would catch her right before her skull would connect with the pavement.
#emptyspaces

the air here smells of wet asphalt, it is damp with moldy promises and unfulfilled divinations.

our magic is powerless. no amount of incense burnt or blood spilled will turn the tide.

our cards pity us. they are too nervous to tell the truth. they, too, are scared of death.
#emptyspaces

a memory that has lost its vibrancy reveals itself. it's met with a tired sigh, a porcelain hand tracing lines across its surface.

this memory still has feelings in it. fingers pry it open.

a pearl, its opaque visage reminding her of distant warmth. she clutches it.

it hurts.
#emptyspaces

here lie five dolls, their faces scrubbed beyond recognition. three of them are blonde, one is a redhead, and the last one is bald. they share a dormant soul. doomed to sleep eternally, they drift through the seas and the skies of their memories.

#emptyspaces

to sleep is to die.

to cry is to bleed.

to live is to suffer.