The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

You were the moon
I wish I could talk to
At every night

It arrives,
Unnoticed, unannounced.

Quiet,
At first.

Slow,
Seeping, dripping.

I put it down to a few stressful weeks.
I carry on.

It unpacks,
Worries, anxieties.

Gently,
For now,

Tiptoes,
Whispers, creaks.

‘It will leave soon’ I think ‘It always does.’
I keep going.

It settles in,
Getting comfortable.

Getting louder,
And louder.

Banging thoughts,
Insomnia.

‘Please don’t be happening again’.
I shuffle along my daily routine.

Claws in,
Insidious.

Screaming,
24/7.

Shame, worthlessness,
Hurt.

‘Please go away’.
I’m barely coping.

Growing roots,
Into my brain and heart.

Blossoming pain,
With every beat.

Emptiness, loneliness,
Abandonment.

Silence, Stillness,
‘I can’t move, I can’t cope.’

Thought, like
A gunshot.
Like the noise the
Lightning wrought.
Like a crashing wave
That drags me back
Into the tide I fought.
I sought my peace
Inside a void
Where the pressing fears
Might cease.
Where my demons
Would release
Me
But it was all
For naught.
In my darkness,
I was found.
The sporadic,
Enigmatic sound
Of my neural network
Run aground
On the void I used
As a shield around
The fears I loathe to feel,
Saw my defenses
Swiftly drowned,

And I thought.