my words feel like death,
not physically,
they aren't sick or bleeding out,
but mentally.
they haven't made sense in a long time,
letters all jumbled,
missing apostrophes.
i guess this is an example of a writer
getting too involved in
their stories.
i don't belong in here.
let me leave.
i can give you more,
be more,
do more,
i swear.
and now i am yelling,
screaming,
and my fists are punching air
and making contact,
touching something that isn't real
for the millionth time.
i just want so much.
i don't want to be here,
let me leave, please.  
the tears are washing off the blood
but that only makes the bruises more visible.
my words are blending together now.
i can't think straight.
grab the bottle, ******.
get me out of here.
i am going to leave.