Silence.
Stigma.
Don’t speak. It is not
real. Nothing, is real.
Real until you hold it
inside, hold it until
you cannot breathe.
**** it. Strangle me.
The thoughts alone
drive me to solitude,
stuck in the meadows
of my mind.
Flooding. The green is
turned to red.
A bath of blood,
a cleansing of the pure.
No staff is needed here.
No god.

Welcome to the real world,
                                                 *****.