Enduring the torture that my own body gives me, cramps and stings and knives that bleed me.
A flood of red liquid many know as blood, I imagine it on my wrists when I feel the tingling warming sensation at the bottom of my arm.

I’m lost in a current when I remember back to being with the bright blue sky, but then I think to now and how I’m pushed under your ocean deep octaves, and dark brooding ground eyes.
These waves that crash over me take a drastic turn as my own stomach churns, constricting me, bleeding me, killing me.

Like my own thoughts weren’t enough to drown my head with the sights of him, but it would continue and I’d see her there too, and then I’d imagine finally finishing it.
But how do I do it?

Do I slit my wrists? And let my body dribble dry.
Do I swing from the ceiling? And let my body sway from side to side.
Do I jump off from a high place? And let my body crumble from gravity.
Do I swallow and choke down pills? And let my body bubble and grumble.

I can’t eat, I can barely sleep, and the stress keeps letting me get depressed. More and more I sink.

Underneath the deep blue sea