i can’t breathe, i feel as though my tears are filling my lungs. i can’t stop myself from sinking into the abyss that is my mattress where i feel paralyzed staring into the static of the ceiling.
i am numb my body lymph, starving for energy. i am frail. please don’t touch, i may crumble at your fingertips.
thirsty for your sense of comfort that seeps from your pores into the air. my oxygen supply tainted from the debris of my anxiety clutching my lungs into its fists, i can taste the words my pride wont dare let me say. my taste buds turn sour to the thought. only the voice of my conscience able to pray in silence. sending an sos.