Try not to think about it
Shove it down ....way down
Don't show it
Its bubbling up, it wants to escape
I don't know how long I can hold it
I'm not that strong
I want control over it
But it consumes me
I am it
And it is me
I wasn't always this way with it
I never would shove it down
Until one day I was mocked for showing it
I was told I was weak  
Because everyone has it ... and they can control it
Its all in your head , your a cry baby
I believed it
Why couldn't I control it ?
Next time I'll try my best
But I  feel it again....its about to escape
I can't let it
I try shoving it down ....way down
But that doesn't stop it
Now its flowing out of me like water
I need to stop it
I run to my room , lock the door,shut off my phone
So no one can see it
I look in the mirror
Puffy face and bloodshot eyes are the result of it
I sit in front of my fan
The cool air dries it
I sit until all the evidence is gone
Until I can walk out of my room and deny it
I have to ... I'm not a cry baby
I can do this  
I am it
And it is me

How
do you erase
the demanding thoughts
that float around
your mind

How
do you stop
the howling wolves
that run around
your head

How
do you dim
the frightening scenes
that replay in
your eyes

How
do you release
the haunting cries
that reside in
your heart

How
do you forget
the grueling monster
that lives in
your soul

Ashen doves float within the waves,
slinking like silent demons in the night.
They curl around my body,
jaws operating like steel machines,
gnashing at my limbs.
I begin to scream for help,
but they ****** my breath,
they drag me under their tides of black,
unleashing my unremitting fear of water predators.
their teeth, sunken into my flesh,
gnawing at my mind,
painting me my new mortality.

These are my demons,
the sharks in the bath when it comes to hygiene.
the fear of the below and the depths of human mentality,
the untraceable percentage of human worthlessness,
the detestable attraction to the demise of our minds,

I float lower into the aqua,
pressure building,
unforgiving and foreboding
I close my lids, and dream of the sand,
praying it to be underfoot when I open my eyes,
but when my lids open, the doves loom closer.

The irony of a hydrophobe,
dying at the hands of the sharks.

In the sea of aged descension,
debauchery of tortoises and sea horses,
afloat bottoms up.

With fleeting corals,
wilted they wane,
a familiar millet stops by.

Seeping ashes I breathe in,
treacherous flames I shan’t squelch,
left nothing but void to differ the abyss
from an unfathomable surface.

Tidal deluge washes away.
Deprive me of thy momentum,
for I no longer swim.

Beneath a turned stone,
you see us scatter.

In the realm of lights-outs and pitch-blacks,
a borough infested, now coloured hazel
and cast into the obscure.
A new world turned inside-out,
a haven upside-down.

We retreat from collision and of collapse
as our dividing landscapes betray us,
rid of light yet chasing the shadow.
In mud, we bathe;
upon another, we climb.

Crumbling sounds shiver us from within
as declining space starts to suffocate.
Though, weep not for I’m but contagious.
Deluded and misconfigured,
fleeting repellents, in need of contamination.

Colour, colour.
The end I see through colours.