The tyrant above,
Never cease to pursue his
Greed till all perish.

So many thing there are
I would like to do
To accomplish
So much that I don't know
Which should be done first
My head is overloaded
Soon to collapse
I might end up completely
Wornout without
Fulfilling anything
None at all
I am on the edge now
Of a cliff
I wonder if I choose
To just fall
Than continue
Hanging by a thread
It is better to end
All of these
Afterall

soft sweaters and
harsh breathing
fabric pulled tight
around cold fingers,
the grooves of the stitches
an odd comfort

hair tangled with eyelashes
a dark curtain
a shield from the outside world
knotted and wavy
from days without brushing

toes, flexing
mouth, twitching
unable to stay still
unable to stop moving
for fear of losing self
in a world of bright lights
and too many warm bodies

blood, bubbling like soda
under skin
itchy
messy
get out
get quiet
get dark
please, silence,
no more

breathe in
fingers play with hair,
the texture soothing
repetitive
familiar
safe.