Comfortability

As I stripped down to my bare necessities & took my last breath I thought...

Its  not what may be lurking in the depth of the ocean that frightens me but the
                        vast darkness & silence
                                       that succumbs you when plunged into the cold sea.
I never expected to feel so small.

I often see shadows, racing across my mind. Leaping out from the corners of alleyways I've left behind.

Wondering if I see them still at all, these shadows they remind me of how i once lost it all.

I cannot keep them locked away for they know that silly game, of cobwebbed skeletons lying friskily, deep inside my cave.

Oh How I struggle! To keep the shadows at bay. Oh How hungrily they grow! whilst i try to run away.

But in the end they always find me, during the sunset of everyday.

My wish is that this sadness that i invoke is unknown to me.

I'd prefer the numb versus the never ending thoughts of
                          
                                  suicide.

Sometimes i find myself too sad
I have to force my lungs to inhale the stale air of my dark, lonely, humid bedroom.
I have to make myself walk to the
bathroom and you know.
I have to force my limbs to turn the shower faucet on and take my clothes off so i can bathe.
I have to remind myself often that this shell i exist in needs food & water.
Some days i find it hard that i just cant. I couldnt. I become so tired even sleep couldnt suffice my exhaustion.
On those days my skin becomes a texture of plastic and i begin to pick at myself.
You'll often find me jumping with angst.
I'm just waiting for the pills chased by a bottle of ***** to kick in.
This time--

Every year the mosquitos come back to feast.
They make home in spare water and lie eggs.
The mosquitos feast upon our acidic flesh with envy.
Have you ever wondered why the mosquito keeps returning to feast upon us?
Perhaps our flesh is tough and a challenge found enjoyable by the insect.
Maybe the mosquito finds  pleasure from our blood.
Maybe we have a unique taste thats mesmerizing.
Perhaps the mosquito returns every year to feast upon us in envious pity, for even the mosquito knows a numb life is a lonely life.
There's comfort in the mosquito, the mosquito has hope.
Unlike the mosquito I dont possess such a thing. I am meaning less & beautiful. A corpse, I am cold and dark.
My blood is as Cold, as the mosquito.

Shadows croak to be released from the shallow corners of the wooden chest.

A crate crafted to store the bearings of my toys, now tis the home, the safe haven of my only companions.

Cursed and abandoned, left damp and withered.
Whispering
              screams
                        and
                              echoing secrets of despairing joy.

Humid affection and calloused fog the shadowy shallower corners.
Anxiously awaiting, simply waiting.

Perhaps for the shadows to rid the porous wisteria
                                        
                                         decaying
      
                                                           where my soul should have been placed.

Some angels fly and patrol the heavens i presume.
But i'm sure some angels walk amongst us.
They feel as we do, consume poisons and ache over sleepless nights.
They hallucinate and scream silent death wishes.
They have miserable birthdays, cursing the gift of life.

Existing rather.