Red sheets, a thick comforter
I am entangled in it.
My curves and edges are entrapped
and I have no weapons.
Left to my own devices, my fingers
scratch whatever there is to touch,
be it a headboard or even
my own skin.
The red welts appear, and I swear
cracks surfaced even.
This tightening feeling, rippling
like firestorms and typhoons,
a tsunami of numbness and
pain in my chest.
(oh god, it can't be a heart attack, can it?)
I gave up the nicotine sticks 4 days ago
Dying at 23 isn't the best way to go.
Suddenly the buzzing comes,
the endless hum and incoherent
voices that dictate scenarios
too romanticized to happen.
Stop it, just stop!
I can't breathe
Screaming isn't an option, it's too dark
for anyone to know.
That is anxiety.
I survived an attack last night
I don't want to die tonight.
— The End —