I gulped my air down and felt my hand being held.
Electric pulses walked through my body and
I got carried into an emergency room.
I am not dead and not dying but I am not living.
I left my body and I do not know where I went
and now there are two people inside of me named
mind and soul but they don't know the other
exists because everyday is a gamble as to
who gets to live and who gets to sleep.
And some days they both call in while my
abused vessel drowns in my sheets
and my lungs slow but my eyes stay
open but I cannot see.

Your world is headed for an apocalypse.
Your titanium walls are being pushed over
Like dominoes
One by one they collapse and create earthquakes
And migraines
And you lie bleeding in your pool of tears
Because you lost your book of plans
And you haven't a clue on how to start over
God your eyes are burning from being so tired
So tired of crying.
So you stop crying.
You stop thinking,
You stop talking,
You stop worrying,
You stop caring,
Because that is what led you to your
Destruction in the first place,
Isn't it?

Under those sudden eruptions of curses I see more than just that of romances and giddiness.
At those moments, hatred paints your anger-struck loveliness to whatever the brain wants,
because times like that make him think that he rules over me. It's a spur.
Understandably jotted down on the a many last nerves I have for you.
The annoyance of a droning fly is your voice at my mind,
but a symphonic whisper to my beat that can't help but enclose the echo of yours inside.
I dread you skipping away nonchalantly, except the Times when you act as a boomerang; coming back to We and leaving I in the past like all the rest of our barking.
Like a team trying to win a championship trophy.
But who needs a trophy when We have each other?