I stumble in the blinding dark.
I cannot see a single mark,
Of light, of rock, of man or beast.
It seems the night will have its feast.
When suddenly a glowing light,
Emits from somewhere out of sight.

I stagger toward it, unaware,
Of a sudden thinness in the air.

A cave now seems to beckon me,
And as I enter, all I see,
Are crystals shining like the sun.
Like broken mirrors, dull are none.
My fear now seems to melt away,
And false safety is here to stay.

For suddenly I feel safe and sound,
Though I'm miles and miles below the ground.

Numb.
I cannot feel the sunburn on my back.
I cannot feel pain as I glide the blade against my skin.
I no longer feel the spark in my heart.

My head is constantly crowded with nonsense.
All I can see is a little red-headed boy.
He plays with blocks in a sepia-toned room.
I know he is not real.
I have never seen him before, but I know this imagery all too well.
He comes from a photograph from long ago.
He is my reality now.

He lays on the carpet tinted a light green.
He is stacking blocks with different letters on them.
I feel as if I should pay attention to their order.
Is he trying to tell me something?
The letters are blurry, as if I am reading without my glasses.
What could this boy be trying to tell me?
I lean in closer when his image ripples away as if this photograph was dipped into a chemical bath.
Reaching out my hand, I cannot touch him.
I remember he is just a hallucination.
Reality hits me aggressively.

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor, blade in my hand when my phone lights up.
Grabbing my phone, I let the blade fall.
I can feel my heart pound for the first time in months.
I am hoping to hear from a friend.
Instead, a game is inviting me to come back and play.
I know it now.

I am alone.

I am alone with my thoughts and with this boy who isn't real.
I crave human interaction.
I look at the blade on the floor.
I look at my skin tinted red.
I crave being in the same sepia photograph as that boy.
I wouldn't be alone.
I wouldn't be red.
But I only know one way to travel back to him.
I pick up the blade once more and press it hard into my skin.

Numb.
I cannot feel the sunburn on my back.
I cannot feel pain as I glide the blade against my skin.
I no longer feel the spark in my heart.

I cannot stand to be alone anymore.

Conversing with Death herself humbled me
Scene:
There’s a tranquil garden in my dreams
An endless array of beauty
Something like a rainbow in the distance
But not quite, there are a few colors missing
Maybe that’s just my eyes

You never notice the beauty within the fingertips of a loved one
Like a scene from a Wes Anderson film
Beautiful in every context created by the human emotion

Mother I’m going to be alright
“You’re dying”
Mother I’m going to be alright

A bed of amaryllis petals lay the ground to which I sleep
But Death
She seemed to say something like a whisper
“Not today, child”
Mother I’m going to be alright

And passing suns illuminate my fingertips
The veins of my body blue like the vast sea
A never-ending scene of ethereal elegance
And a steady heartbeat
Mother I’m going to be alright

someone rescue me from my own mentality
my worst nightmares have become a reality
     I'm losing my mind
     & I can't rewind
     I can't go back to: when things were fine
          /pleasepleaseplease/
               take me back in time

wake me from this h a l l u c i n a t i o n
tell me it's     only my imagination
                    
                    my thoughts, they're running wild
                              I feel just like a child

     but I can’t think straight
     there's no escape:
*take me back to a     ~ + * dreamlike state * + ~