I constantly talk to myself. Calming myself down because I am at that point: the breaking point.
I gradually shift between reality and fantasy as though I was a trauma patient dipping in and out of consciousness.
I drug myself yet my body retaliates back like a bush fire, I am so lost. So alone.
I can’t even breathe: I can’t think. I can’t sleep. I can’t live.
I wonder....... how did I get here? I used to have everything under control. I used to be sane.
I now feel like I am a failure, caught at this crossroad where loosing is my only option.
I look back and see people cheering me on, I look to my side and I see my own ghost.
With my mouth agape, I gaze at the pale figure, distraught and condemned.
I see disappointment. I am engaged to failure and married to death.
I no longer see the thin line between hate and fate.
Looking back I think I want to play god, I want to be god.
God in this moment, in this era that I am facing. I am like the scorched earth.
I cry out for a single drop, a single drop of faith, hope and redemption.
Dear god if you ever existed, this is me calling out: this is me giving me up.
If not then let me call the angel of death, let me die from this dark cloud.
Let me die from this wonder. Let me die before I get to meet my ghost.
Let me die before disappointment says his vows; let me die before I die.
I am tired of dreaming a dream that is an illusion. Even dishonesty couldn’t sell the lie to me.