How do I
even begin
to write
again?

Butterflies in my chest,
Darkness in my head.
A fractured wrist,
A broken mind.

Things will never be the same,
ever
again.

Stuck in a dark box
With nowhere and
Nothing
To do.
My hands and legs
Are restrained,
But my mind runs
Free.

What is there
To do anymore?
What is there
But an escape from
Reality
As the only option?

I’m tired and exhausted,
Sobs stifled,
Overwhelming feelings,
But i am dead already.

When the dose of propofol hits
Your veins,
The world fall apart into
One big dark mess.

You try to hang on
To something,
Anything,
But nothing remains.
Everything just fades away,
Along with your conscience.

This is the first
Ordinary good
One
Thing that has
Happened.
Please, don’t
Attribute it to fate but
Seize
The moment before
Everything fades.

Tarmac cracks
Under blistening sun,
And i wonder

Funny how one
Thinks about the future
A split second
After
Thoughts of death.

Is there an easy way
Out
Of this labyrinth
Called ‘life’?

To the you, who will never read this:
I miss you.
What happened between us
I know nought.
Was my vices too much
For you to share?
Am i just
Another stranger
Now?