Eyes tightly shut, I count to a safe number and turn the switch

On
Off
On
Off
On

On?

On is where my demons lie,
where the obsessive
counting , swallowing and numbers
clutch at me.
Where I see darkness even when my eyes are
open,
where being awake is no consolation.
All my scars are exposed, my anxiety evaluated and
my fear is exposed.

Off?

I'm no longer me.
The material is ironed out, I fluctuate and bend.
I am false.
I make sounds which are not my own,
forget myself.

I forget to clutch at you.
You're  amongst my demons,
often
you  are my demons.

And there lie my choices,
if choice even exists
at all.