you pretend you've lost count
                                (feverishly, insides painted red and dripping-)
of how many times it's ended in "i'm sorry im sorry im so ******* sorry please come back"
"please listen"
"please dont leave"
(he won't and the door slams)

of how many times you've dredged yourself out of icy lakes to
grasp desperately at his clothes, his skin, his hair
breathing cold air into cold lungs, smearing paint onto his lips
to pretend
that this isn't another
                                                                (please god no)
                        
                                                      rewind

you tip the coffee to your lips, a dark brew, red dripping down the cup
and-
you know how this ends, but you always did, didn't you?

He's drowning hes dying someone save him hes drowning
hes drowning
              hes drowning
                             hes drowning
hes
always been drowning, stupid girl, didn't you know?
Didn't you?

sometimes the pills do it (32), sometimes the blades (48)
sometimes he just doesn’t wake up (25)
sometimes he climbs to the tallest building and-
                                                     rewind
rewind. rewind. rewind rewind rewindrewind rewind

you pretend that you've lost count
but you know
you always knew
that it would come to this, that it would end and
                                               (im sorry im sorry im so ******* sorry)
the only thing you could do was drown with him

sinking
sinking
sinking
into icy depths
watching
the fish swim by as your lips turn blue and his eyes close and your insides burn like a gallon of bleach and

you tip the paint to your lips, red falling from the corners of your mouth,
snaking down your throat, wrapping around your heart
you dredge yourself out of an icy lake and-
                                                      rewind

the dominant mind of sadness
it's 3 am and i still havent had rest
thinking about words and actions
who and what is really mine
and why does it matter so much
your anesthetic touch
what can i become, who's me
an ever lost and tired soul searching
all by myself, i need to do something
but i'm waiting for the day
i have the strenght to release myself
the one that's me, be happy
but waiting and hoping is bad
just like stress of the sensitive and
death, in a self destructive brain

Such a
disappointment
I have placed
myself in a
confinement

and

lurking for hope
in desperation
is no longer
part of the
only question.

if i remember correctly,
you wrote a manual on how to swim
in this sea of disappointments

wading my way on above-me water *****
the energy, the life, the sureness out of me
**** this pressure everyone puts around me

i am naked under currents; don't peak
the water had been dyed pitch black now
the color of doubts

in their eyes they stitch words on my skin
capital letters p, e, r, f, e, c, and t
they decorate me like a diy existence

if i remember correctly,
you wrote a manual on how to drown suffocating-deep into one's sweetest dream
give it to me now

My feet sloshed through the rain-filled mud as I ventured closer towards the wooded labyrinth. I was drawn to the idea of ending the raven’s era, as he cut through the sky, heading towards the all-known border. I felt that with each footstep made, a part of my world would erode. The moon bellowed, revealing my figure. Throwing caution to the way I ascended the mountain, I had to destroy this apparition for I could not take his taunting glare any longer.
Approaching the cliff-side, I could hear my lover’s voice beckoning me from beyond the grave. My sanity was fading into oblivion, madness taking its place. I watched the raven descend to the angelic statue that over looked metropolis. Gripping the revolver with a burning passion and aimed at the foul, as I pulled back the receiver and placed gentle pressure on the trigger, my lover came to me. I could see his face and a flash of desperation… I knew I needed to be with him for this life was no longer worth living. I retracted my aim and placed the barrel firmly between my lips, closing my eyes. Click. The silence had come.

Things my mum asked for today:
To be taken home
Toast
The toilet
To be left to die