Suddenly it hit me:
a maelstrom of nothingness.
I can't discern it, it isn't tangible.

I run through the emotions in my head:
sadness
anger
fear.

None of them fit what I feel.

There's a cloud hanging over my head:
ominous,
deep,
grim.

I've only just noticed it's presence,
I think.

Here's to the forgotten people,
the voiceless.
I'll help them cross the tightrope
marginalising the sick.
And as the snow falls
and the smoke clears the airways,
I'll be there to hold your hand.

Forgotten socks in the washing machine,
Pennies dropped on the floor,
little souvenirs of purposelessness
clutter the empty spaces of Earth.
Not worn,
Not wished upon.

In light of the fog and wind
I want to remind you that
before light comes darkness.
Don't let the ice make you lose grip of what's important
and run into the loving arms of the new decade.

I am the only girl sitting in a deserted library.
Lonely girl, sad girl.
Girl who fills her mind with fantasy
and fiction.

The empty rows of shelves,
The unoccupied study cells.
She sees it all, but dreams of
Her comforting bed, her soft pillow.

The printer whirs, the night deepens
And the moon shines through the loose blinds.
Mismatched books, cluttered highlighters,
She has it all in front of her

But midnight strikes, and the tantalizing urge to
Procrastinate presses on her mind.

I look at the bare-***** trees and the
slushy decaying leaves
the white smoke slipping out my mouth.
There was frost on my window today and
the dew on the grass was opaque and I
tripped on the black ice covering the stairs.

I protect myself--in an effort--from the
cold eye's of winter glaring at me through the
withered rays of sun and gloomy grey rain.
Scarf, hat, gloves, thick waterproof coat,
hot cocoa, warm baths, bonfires.
I'm still cold, though.

I can't seem to thaw this coldness
frosting my heart.
I can't seem to shake the snow
piling up in my head.

Yes, I told maintenance to
fix my radiator.
Yes, I use my hot water bottle.

But see, the problem is not that it's cold outside;
The problem....is that it's cold within.

in such a hard and lonely field
she waits for death to come
a suitor dressed in red and black
wraps tightly around her
neck
beckoning her to the underworld.
the grass tickles her
ankles
the smoke tickles her
lungs
and the painkillers punch her
stomach.

The vast emptiness before her,
the deep blackness deepening.
She sees a voice in her
mind.

What punishment she chooses next?
What does she want to end?
Is there another life awaiting her arrival?

My world is falling apart at the seams
like the books on my shelf.
I'm filling them with annotations, post-it notes, highlights.
But I'm not filling myself.

Literary figures come to mind at night.
They form one literary nightmare.
Bleed into each other like one story.
And in class, I can't tell them apart anymore.

And I can't tell who I am anymore. Who am I?
The girl suffering with eating disorders, depression, anxiety?
Or the girl who loves the books filling her shelf?

You're my friend. A familiar bottomless pit.
You encourage me to push my ****** limits.
I stand in front of the toilet for you.
My stomach grumbles for you.
I'm always cold for you, always aching for you.
Stay with me. Wrap your firm arms around me.
I'm marked for life, affected for life. You'll never leave, right?
You're a force to keep me alive. Breathe Me.

But why have you chosen me? Why me as your companion?
You make me suffer, you malicious beast
yet you convince me you're on my side.
Why? Why do you take sadistic pleasure out of me?
I'm not your experiment, and you're not mine. **** me, if you must,
but stay away.