It’s going 60 kilometers an hour down a dark bottomless pit and being okay with it
It’s watching hands flail out to catch you and twisting the other way
It’s the bottom of a cracking hourglass breathing in the sand that threatens to bury you
It’s being too tired to fight for that one last breath that could just save your life
When you sit in the cold and watch as the wind peels away the skin on your arms like smoke from a dying cigarette
You stare at the patterns in the fire and wonder what it would feel like to burn, albeit that dimly, inside
Like you once did. Centuries ago, when more benevolent demons inhabited your core
And not these strangers that wage wars against each other dropping atomic bombs all over your spirit
Making a wasteland out of you, from the inside out
You feel all the things that once kept you alive die, one by one.
And then all the ashes that collect in the aftermath gather at the back of your eyes,
So that they gleam a distant shade of grey like the bleeding evening sky that you have become,
Mirrors turn to books that unfold in the seconds that you pause to steal a glance
Telling stories etched in your heart but all the same devoid of recognition.
Just a faint familiarity that somewhere beneath that cover, lies a story you once were, sorry, knew.
It is 1am on a school night, after a chilling rain, burying your feet in the cold pool wishing you could drown with the brightest star
That little tiny voice that says you need help, that begs your lungs to scream out loud,
That other little voice that aches to let go and fade into nothingness
That sarcastic laugh that fills the sand into the grave that you dug for yourself
That still soft hum that calls out to you once more
“Come, dearest. I can make it all go away.”