Occasionally I hear voices,



White noise of others choices.



I flick them away, like flies.



Deep, oh so deep, the ego lies.



Whilst spreading in all directions,



Dividing into self made sections.



I have effaced myself.



I am now in the silence before I was born.



All my affectations shorn,



Cocooned in nothingness.



I do not miss the smell of jasmine



Or watching the blossom fall,



The deliciousness of chocolate,



Hearing the cuckoos call,



Touching the silk of your skin,



I do not miss anything, for I am within.



This body, left to mind, now realises



Everything is absurd,



Dreamland is another word.



Externally the machine makes another sound,



My lungs now fill, oxygen found.

I'm afraid of the future, I'm afraid of the past.
I'm afraid that you don't think of me, I'm afraid that I'm on your mind.
I'm afraid that you like her, I'm afraid that you love me.
I'm afraid to be alone, I'm afraid of crowds.
I'm afraid to be happy, I'm afraid to be sad.
I'm afraid of you, I'm afraid of me.

This is what i deal with, all of my anxiety.

brisk. jagged. grainy.
your words dance
across my innocence.
"im sorry,"
mumbled. whispered.
poisoned.
cynical are those words
aiming to ****,
forcing to struggle,
eternally scarring.
once, i believed you.
thought it was real,
and you actually cared;
that's when your intentions
became art.
my body the canvas,
your words the brush.
my emotions the paint,
your mind the audience.

"The problem with suicide is that when it becomes an option in your mind, it's always an option."