Like an uninvited guest I have stitched myself to you. You never wanted my presence but here I am regardless I am a friend you never wanted But i have attached my self to you like a wild beast Ripping and tearing at your skin below the surface. The control I have over you weighs on your chest My claws dig into your lungs, slowly suffocating you. I manipulate your memories and thoughts into my design My creation, My desire. I feed off your fatigue and ruin all the good times that you never had I build a barrier between you and the rest of the world I lock you up and throw away the key “Your in my head, you can't hurt me” I hear you cry out Nevertheless I have concocted a potion that will send you spirelling Locking you into the pit of overwhelming fear and self hating sadness I am your worst nightmare and your closest friend I am your anxiety.
I often imagine that the moon, the owls and the darkness of the night might be my closest friends, they are my trusted companions through the few highs and the many lows. They comfort me when it's 3am and the rest of the world seems like they are sleeping soundly.
They’ve been witness to my tears and plees for this to all stop and comforted me when the four walls of this bedroom felt like a cage. The moon seems so distant yet its warmth kisses my cheek. Someday I might be able to force my body to ignore the protection of the darkness and live in the light of the sun. But I am manufactured to die slowly to the darkness and this body is like an incomplete metaphor for the disease that lives in my head without paying rent eating up all the light.
You said you saw me dancing in the rain. You said I looked happy and sane. If only you were truly true, You would have noticed my pain. If only you really knew And not just claim, You would have seen that my tears were the rain.
Dear friend, If only you were truly true, Maybe I would still be alive today. Maybe. Just maybe.
If you're wondering how long it took for a man to die after crashing a car, five days was how long it took. The car crash killed him and his ex-wife who was named Stacy Brooks. He was driving over a hundred miles per hour at midnight, that was really fast. Stacy died instantly but her ex-husband died about 120 hours after the crash. Stacy has been dead for the same amount of time that she lived, twenty-five years. She was a very special lady and her death brought about misery, suffering and tears. Stacy wasn't stuck up like some other girls who I went to school with, she would talk to me. It wasn't fair when she died so young, my friend has been dead for a quarter of a century. Her life ended in 1997 on the seventh of September. She was a unique person who I will always remember.
DEDICATED TO STACY ANN BROOKS (1972-1997) WHO DIED A QUARTER OF A CENTURY AGO TODAY ON SEPTEMBER 7, 1997.