If only one,
Could show me the way.

Without toxins
Circling my brain.

Without slurring
Words that I say.

Without praying
For my last day.

Without digging
An awaiting grave.

Without feeling myself
Wither away.

But today is the day,
I put this all at bay.

As I travel to the land
Of safe haven.

That is where I will stay.

'Come alive',
They say.
'Take these pills twice a day'.

'Activate your mind,
Leave thoughts to stay’.

‘But doctor,
I fear,
My thoughts are
Difficult to bear’.

'You think too much of it,
Dear'.
You say.

'Take your belongings
And go home today'.

Cease
And release me.
The fire
Burns freely.

Eating me
Slowly.
Fists open the
Walls of my sanity.

Hot,
And heavy.
Breath rapid yet steady.

It hasn’t left me,
Internally,
Destroying me quickly.

For you,
Do not notice.

But only when you do,
I am a monstrosity.

I.

All I can say is that it is a hum
Reverberant, droning, consistent
Quiet thrumming along the surface
Stirs me awake and then it fills me with
Ichor and I sip, sip, and sip (until I'm drunk).

All I can say is that it is a hum,
Quiet droning, a hushed whisper,
Loud screaming inside the head,
A piercing headache, sometimes a discordant wail.

II.

You sit on the porcelain lip of the tub
Hooded eyes lowered, your fingertips
Pressed together like the steeple of a church

I think: Yes, this is what Renaissance painters modeled angels after. Your skin is like a rose-tinged alabaster, your cheeks Suffused with blood. The painter took a measured time with you.

"Do you honestly think you'll be okay on your own?" You ask.

Silence, she greets you.

III.

Hasn't my mother violently
Ejected me from the nest
I'm only a few months old, a nestling
Wings awkward and clumsy
Beak agape for masticated food
(I'm not ******* ready yet)
Ejects me
Her beak threatens to pierce my shell

This is dejà vu.
I've conversed before
Different room, different domain,
Different speaker, a sicker listener
I'm as sick, sick as **** now

Mind, she hums, crescendo
Crescendo high like a choral piece
Orchestral, and this is resplendent
Everything is gleaming
Your face encased in a soft glow
Halo of light
Your face, cherubic,
His face, Romanesque, was sculpted like a Bronze Age statue.

"Your mother didn't give you the right set of tools. My mother at least gave me–" he falters.

IV.

I remember calling the ex 28 times in the span of 2 hours.
The policeman, he counted.
Thrashing on the floor, weeping like Persephone must've in Hades, like a fallen Mortal reborn as a minor goddess
Stripped me, he did though, of my wings
Avian feathers streaked with years-old blood

My tears, why yes, they're bleeding rivulets.
My ****-brown eyes alight on the bleach
Yes, sweet death

"Stop calling me. I'm ******* another ***** right now," the ex says.

V.

Memory is so faded,
Plays like a scratched and worn cassette tape

Mind is a-humming, humming, my mind is
Orchestral choir, church choir, Pentecostal
Now, I eat ichor, ravenous, now I am Closer to God and she is a woman,  
Draped in funeral attire
She weeps, soundless, a Seer

"I don't know," I say.

"The med isn't working," you reply
Cherubic face shifts and morphs
Melts into soft glow light,
One with the halo, is the halo

Nothing makes sense, everything else does too. My mind races, cassette tapes
Whirs, skips, images flash, I weep
Weep like Sisyphus
Eyes spilling rivers of penny-tinged
Crimson, sanguine ichor

One day he'll taste it and hate me,
Loathe me, the jade-eyed serpent
Poison-fanged
I'll clutch his scales until my fingers are Cut, welts, mottled bruises, fading scars
I will be punished, am punished
The illness, the eternal Boulder on the eternal hill, it rolls and rolls, my mouth agape

I await my cyclic fate ordained by the Higher God

VI.

How many men have I lured into the chamber?
Drunk on sweet wine or mead?
Petrified into osseous
Their gazes failing to avert from my Penetrative stare?

He was an errant General, beautiful but stupid, his mind a one way road, his temper unpredictable and flighty
Oh, how I loved the duality of him
We philosophized
Theorized on the Gods
Laughed at their follies
Wondered at the mysteries of the universe, Her deep annals

Oh, how I loved the physicality of him
Tight, corded muscle, his back like a Wound spring, Bronze hand
Grasping a silver sword

Hark! His rounded shield is lifted, my hideous reflection stares back at me
My eyes, widened, the cup of manna Clatters, soundly in the chamber
Reverberates
Bounces off my throne of skulls

How many men have I–?

VII.

"Can you honestly say that you can take care of yourself?" You ask from the place atop the lip of the porcelain tub. Your hands, a steeple, a church spire
Perhaps, you are a lesser God, perhaps we are all falling Lucifers, wingless, blinded by vengefulness and betrayal
Perhaps, he too is–?

"Am I an infant to you?" I ask.
The headache splits
The pain demands, claws at the side of my skull, dances across my nerves, liquid iron on my tongue

Because when did I?

Oh, Sisyphus you weep! You, who slaughtered so many!

Oh, Medusa, you wept, you beautiful serpentine harlot, you *****, you–
The choir is a strong crescendo, Ascending, ascending, ascending
Lowers like a thrumting and heavy bellow
Deep, rich, and full, timbre

"Everyone, all your life has said you were crazy, but I don't think you are, I–"

VIII.

The tapes skip, voices garbled, muffled, Indiscernible and distorted
Mind shrieks, lower now, quieter now, Barely audible, a fading whisper, your halo Recedes, soft glow dims

Your hands separate, the steeple, no, the Spire collapses.
Held breath hitches,
Serpentine tendrils become wisps of hair, Cloudlike

We are lesser gods, not quite mortal, not quite divine

The itch demands to be felt, protests
And I, I scream endless into a dark chasm
My voice, it does not call back to me
It does not–

"I don't know."

With a rabid snarling maw 
frothing with bloodlust, 
and long skeletal claws 
digging into the wooden floor, 
pulling up gashes of fiber.
Eyes pierced through her own 
like daggers trying to chill her to the bone. 

But she could not be bothered 
with this dramatic fanfare of threats. 
She was too exhausted, 
her skin felt as if it was wilting off her bones. 
Her muscles throbbed with each heart beat 
as blood pulsed through her veins. 

But the physical pain was nothing
compared to the war of her mind 
and the storm of her heart. 
Her sigh exposed every unspoken feeling 
raging inside her.

His lust for violence faltered. 
In the stretched silence 
only her heart break could be heard
and he realized 
he was not the only monster threatening her. 

The ones she was fighting inside 
were much deadlier.

The waves are silent. The waves
don't move. Nobody wants to be here
and nobody wants to leave.

There's a man trapped
under his house with an alligator.
His wife does the thin space walk:
an olive, a cherry, and an onion.

She'd sensed his gaze and took off
her dressing gown. She asked if he thought
her bottom was too big, her mind too small.
He said a faded, faulted no.

He's stupid, but he'll catch on
sooner or later. He once saw a ray in her,
but she fell out of orbit. Waxing and waning.

She's got to be careful, after
the sleeping pills and gas. She knows
it's Wednesday because she
took her last pill on Tuesday.

Allowing the world she so painstakingly
built up to ignite and burn apart
in front of both their eyes.

Unable to feel
Unable to do the things you love
Everything is boring
Nothing is fun
Nothing brings joy
You're just existing
Waiting.
Waiting for what?
The next day?
Your next vacation?
A new job?
A relationship?
Nothing will bring true joy anyway
It all last for mere seconds, days at most
and dissipates eventually
It's hard to verbalize
what its like in this mind
in this body
To not enjoy anything
To not enjoy the things you used to love
To need the stinging feeling of a razor across your skin
to feel clarity
To not love food the same way you used to
To want to sleep at 7:30 pm every night
because what's the point in staying up any longer
when there is nothing to do, nothing to enjoy
To sleep as much as you can to escape reality
People say to love yourself, focus on you
but how can you focus on you when it isn't enjoyable to
when there is nothing to uplift yourself for
when the focus turns into getting to bed
as soon as possible?

Two roads,
Both of suffering,
A travel of torment,
An alcoholic buffering,
A mental health descent.

Two roads,
Both amnesiac,
Disasters once foretold,
A twisted aphrodisiac,
A trauma to remold.

Two roads,
And no yellow wood,
The lines are blurred and gray,
And no choice is ever good,
With the forces at play.

Two roads,
And a traveler,
With sanity at stake,
The wrong choice could unravel her,
A choice she's yet to make.

Glittery sunlight seeps through the gaps in the leaves, shadows dance on the soft grass around me. I lie on the warm earth, breathing in the fresh air. I run my hands through the flowers sprouting besides me, noticing the pale yellow and pastel pink hues, the butterflies flittering among the flora. As i sit up i see that I'm in some sort of forest clearing, a small grassy area encased in a wall of thick trees...


"It's beautiful isn't it?" he said. Who he is, I haven't a clue...
I stand myself up and confusion washes over me. I don't see anyone else present, I'm alone, so where'd the voice come from?
"From me, I'm behind you."
I turn around to face the man with the disembodied voice, a strikingly handsome man dressed in a silk white button down shirt, shiny white dress pants, and white shoes. his features are utterly appealing and instantesouly comforting. Can he read my thoughts?
And with that he lets out a chuckle, "Yes, I can. Please, come with me"
I hesitate for a moment. I'm not sure I can entirely trust him yet but still I follow him anyways. We walk across the clearing, in to the wall of trees. A short distance through the forest brings us to a beautiful river with crystal clear water and lily pads floating about. "Have a seat dear," the Mystery Man said, his arms outstretched towrds a wooden bench shaded beneath some trees. As we sit he begins to speak.
"I know you're unsure of your new environment, but trust me when I say you're in good hands. My friends call me Luci, I sort of run this place,"
he gestures broadly at our surroundings.
"Now, you're here because you asked for help, is that correct?"
Suddenly all my memories come flooding back...
"I-Yes, thats-I asked for help," I stuttered.
Luci stares into the distance, possibly carefully searching for his next reply.
"Dani, I am willing to help you. Here, take this. I've made this just for you. A special concoction of joy, sobriety, peace, and release."
He hands me a small vial containing a clear liquid. I uncap it and a sweet floral aroma fills the air.
"All you have to do is drink it. You know, Death is a beautiful thing, most people are afraid or angry when Death comes around... You are different, Dani, because you welcome Death with open arms. You called my name and I delivered, you can trust me, you can always trust an angel, even the Angel of Death."
He grabs my arm and forces me to drink the liquid.
The sweet smelling potion leaves a horridly bitter taste behind, causing me to gag and retch.
Death sits quietly at my side, watching me fall to the ground and writhe in pain, all with an ugly grin on his face.
The pain is unbearable; I feel as though my skin has been covered in acid, my head feels like it may combust at any second...
Death begins to laugh.
Hes getting off on this, I know it. *******.
"Now, now, Dani, don't blame me. You're the one who wanted this, you're the one who tied the noose, not me. I saved you, now you owe me."
With those last words I give in, I had asked for this, I desperately wanted this, I needed this.
With the acceptance comes the release, the final breath, the final end.

I have been saved by an angel named Death.

Im finally free.