I am never lonely
because I have shadows,
I-I mean--- friends,
and they always follow me.
ALWAYS.
They are friends,
I'm sure.
They told me so.

They talk to me.
Might be incoherent sounds.
I don't know.
I understand them though.
They're my friends.

" e &m b r ?a c e
c {}l o s +e r,
e m b r €€a c e >m • e,
<c h £ i l &d."

There is nowhere safe.
These four white walls
called home, is now graffitied
with profane symbols and words.
Even my mind's eyes are filled
with their vulgarity and lasciviousness.
They don't rest, eat nor defecate.
They used to sound
like white noise.
A deep rumble
amidst the heaving mass of a black sea.
Then, it turned into whispers.
Whispers that reverberates
throughout my dome.
"b #u t %c h e r  y o *u r s {e l f
s l i ^t y o +u r n e ]c k
u s e  r u /s t y  b l &a d e
k i =l l #s  s l o #w e r
s ~i |n k  i t  i n
s a &v o r  p a @"i n."
Sadistic bastar--- friends that
delights in my pain.
I could see them smile
as my battered spirit
pours out of my body.

Night comes,
and the moon shines brightly.
Why am I
wearing a funeral suit?
My eyes adjusts to the darkness,
and I could see thousands
of white orchids surrounding me.
The air smells sickly sweet;
akin to death,
but no.
This would be too easy.
I know what they want.
They want me to suffer.
They want us to suffer.
They're my friends.
They slowly seep out of the petals,
turning a field of alabaster into rust.
Slowly creeping in on me.
Gurgling,
as they flash me their coruscating,
jagged teeth.
It almost reminds me of star-filled skies
that we used to watch.
Back then when there was silence;
true silence. Tranquility.
Their slick, black tendrils
licks, then latches onto my skin.
It coils from my feet,
all the way through my face.
I could feel it pulsating.
Beating at the pace of a heart.
It feels warm.
It looks so beautiful.
Too beautiful.
I can't resist the urge.
We kissed.
Oh, God!
Whatever might happen to me,
please have mercy.

Morning comes,
you'd strip your suit,
wear your "normal, productive
member of society" clothes
and make a convincing smile
like nothing ever happened.
But still, something feels different.
You can't get rid of it, can you?
You would if you could.
I know.
Trust me.
I know, because I have tried.
The ominous feeling of being watched.
Even the sweet, aromatic cup of mocha
you cherish every morning
seems murky and unforgiving.
Staring into the temperate abyss
around my palms,
you find that the abyss,
stares also unto you.

"m i &g h t  n o )$t  h e $a @r m e
                                  l o !d g ?e d
        d e ;e p  i /n s i <d e.
                       d ^a r k ><n e s s,
        w £h e ~r e  y o •u  b £e l o €n g.
c _a n t  e >s c •a p e
i  l =u ~r k
             i n  e ^v ' r y  s •h a •d e
                      i n  m u }{g
c o %u l d  s e #e  e y *e s
          d e e +p
                              e m %p t y
        a l m o @s t  l ;i k e  m ?e.
   a l )(m o s t.
                          b !r o •o d
                 r )e s t
                       f e @a s t
    b &r e $e d."

It would be better off
if they just left you lifeless.
I don't see the point in living
in this ******* anymore.
Everyday is the same;
an endless episode of
torment and misery.
If my heart had eyes,
I would have drowned
in tear infused blood
countless times by now.

Everyday you die.
Everyday you're alive but not living.
Everyday you die.
Everyday you drag yourself
through shards of glass.
You want to say that you're used to it,
but in all seriousness, you're not.
You never will.
One could never be used to this kind of suffering.
Physical wounds will heal, but the darkness is eternal.
It remains as your soul's scars.

"Maybe if you slept just for long enough we would leave.
Maybe we would get tired
of picking on a tired soul.
Maybe.
But maybe is better than nothing.
It's been years since I came to you-----
and I've relished each and every
sweet memory we had together.
After all, I am your friend;
and dusk is already setting."