This illness encompasses me.
A ghost of the mind, haunting my existence.
Even in the brightest moments it finds the instant out.
Laying in the deep, old fashioned tub, relaxing as the ghost whispers.
Of the romanticism of tubs like this and early exists.
In these moments I laugh to myself: "of course you'd think that."
Corruption of the spirit.
Errors of the mind.
I wish heights were just terrifying and not lethargic calls to actions.
Unprompted these thoughts corrode my soul like battery acid.