somewhere deep deep inside of
a racking body is a dark little corner
in which resides all of the twisting ghosts
I've ever met in this short life of mine
and it's got to the point that every
single waking day I ask each and every
one of these tedious souls why they've
stayed, why they've locked themselves in
this wrecked shell of a body, this broken
structure that is my ribcage. and never left
me alone. never broken out of the brittle
complex that supports this snapping creature.
madness creeping through muscles, flashing
lights dancing before wild eyes, lungs laced
with fire and not breath, heart racing - pumping
acidic thoughts around an already infected body
hopeless, powerless, oblivious (or not) - i wish
i was.

a single momentary lapse of memory in a noisy skull,
just bones, flesh and a shaky consciousness.
slipping awareness and slowly
swimming bloodshot eyes. you're the teenager, the
sleepy head that angrily paces the room. agitated and
stressed out - to the maximum. tightly
balled fists, ready to fight the oncoming storm.
'so long and good night. but before i go you should
know that if you carry on like this, you'll surely do yourself
damage.' 'what of it?' taunts the little voice within the
closed in, confined walls of the skull.
'it's too late.
you're too stressed. forget it.'
and then there's the shouting now, not taunting, 'for the love of god,
bite your tongue and SHUT UP!'
and again, from within. whispering, but maliciously forceful...
'you're desperate and pathetic.
stop crying, you idiot. you're being so ridiculous. no one wants
to hear your ridiculous whining. choke those words back down, they don't matter'
the violence that racks through your bones makes you
stressed and scared as hell, your eyes bloodshot and makes your
chest so painful that even breathing hurts.
unable to stand anything, at all. wanting it all to STOP.
it's not enough, screams the voice. that's another
sleepless night. another night lying awake, tormented and ridiculed
by a voice telling you you'll fail, you're ****. give up now before
it gets so much worse
scream at the top of your lungs, tear yourself apart, if the voice
inside hasn't already stripped you bare of confidence and
everything that once made you, you. it's nearly too late.
and the voice still spits hatred at you.
always.
selfish.

you've not slept a wink
but the ugly truth glares
right back at you through the fog and is pushing
you quietly with its bony fingers, in the small of
your back. laughing and taunting, provoking and probing
some ridiculous interference, or a crazed mania
that begins setting your teeth on edge.
'you can't fight fire with fire,' your mother always said.
but that's not true and the green
eyed purple headed monster that is fear will
rear his ugly head, again and again and grimace at you
pushing you down into the muddy ground,
beating you into submission. and he's making a deal of it,
trying to slowly wear you down, bit by bit.
'give up' he growls, eyes flashing wildly.
but the warrior inside you soldiers onwards.
you'd be a sorry sight curled up on the floor, wracking
sobs tearing through your fragile body.
none of this makes sense to your little
brain. but it should. your mother told you it would be
'a wild goose chase, you're the one who'll win, not fear.'
but in your heart of hearts, you knew that was just consolation
for the child who was scared of the monster under the bed
the expectancy of life is so much worse than she ever promised
*and it's not safe. you're not safe. no one's ever safe from fear itself