One
Two
Three
I count them individually in my hand
Ten
Twenty
Thirty
There's enough...
With one foul gulp
All of the plain white pills disappear
With every last piece of me alongside it

I'm stuck
My rope is thinning out
Slowly, but surely.
The monster is chasing me
Through every twist and turn of my mind
I don't know where I'm going anymore
I've lost all sence of direction
But the rope is still there
I can go back at any given moment
But I'm afraid to see what's waiting at the entrance

Brown and yellow leaves paint the blank city with beautiful colors, that remain absent in the seasons to come. The faint aroma of cinnamon fills every corner of the dainty corner stores. The bakeries have already started making sweet cinnamon rolls, to enjoy with a warm cappuccino. The bell rings its regular tune. Your smile is filled with the same colors that are painted over the city. The scent of fresh cinnamon rolls linger on your brown and cream jumper. And your fluffy, cappuccino brown hair is blowing in the wind, before you stuff it under your newly knitted beanie. Everything I adore, I can see in you. But, as the seasons change, you change along with it. Your cold, icy heart strikes my seemingly endless warmth. The pancakes and hot chocolate tend to mask the wet, drowsiness of your every day movements. Your thunder-like voice strikes fear in the warm hearts your ever changing personality has consumed in it's spider-like web. But as the spring brings new spirits and clean homes, your web is cleaned and you start anew. An entrancing personality blooms. And the cycle starts again

A mind jumbled with ones and zeros.
A strict code to stick to on the daily.
Well, that's how I've always worked...
Until I met you.
My code has failed to process such detailed and deep emotions.
It has shut down completely.
A bug has seemingly slipped its way in.
A virus my everlasting firewall plainly let through.
But it's comforting to know that the virus is you.

Soft, mossy ground covers the forest floors. Vines hang from high trees, glistening with the dew drops from the mist that spread during dawn. The scenery is laconic. And sweet serendipity makes it's presence known. Chimes and flutes accompany you, making a beautiful song out of the jumble of seemingly useless, natural noises, a rhythm out of a rythmless stroll. While fawns may seem shy, they tend to speak ever so softly about every newcomer. The lakes glisten under the starlight. Every noise has left your hearing range. Complete silence. The only thing left to bother you is your own thoughts.

A person I no longer know stares back at me.
Taunting me, proclaiming my worth.
The tiny, ****** pieces of broken mirror litters the floor around my feet.
A black hole, where my face was once seen.  
My knuckles are heavily wounded, with blood racing down the palm of my hand and welling up on my fingertips.
My glasses have fogged up, thus showing me an even more distorted image of a person I no longer recognize.

The sun reflects off the ocean and spreads a bright sparkle over the water. A dull orange sunset floods the sky above my head. Her eyes sparkle as she stands in the shallow water. The water gently covers her feet and kisses her ankles. Small water droplets slowly cover her white button-up shirt.

With a slight hesitation I walk forward toward her. Her deep, dark brown eyes draw me in, to see her dreams. Her lips remind me of cherry blossoms. Small, delicate butterflies surround us.

But it's high tide now. Our sandcastle that we built together crumbles to the ground as the sky slowly turns grey. It's going to rain soon. The yelling increases. The glass shatters. This fasade I created fades away. I drift back into reality. Alone, lonely. Only small water droplets can be heard tapping from the sink.