So I don't know where this is going, but I don't think I ever truly do.
My mind is full,
full to the point of overflowing
But still,
I am alone.
Even the thoughts which constantly fight to gain attention are of no solace.
They do not make me feel alive
they do not make me feel at all.
With all of the happenings that are occuring you would think I would care
but there is no care left in me to give.
I do not even care for the bone and flesh that is my body.
How am i to care for anything else?
I often gather the blankets,
hide away from the world
at the bottom of my bed
where no one can get me
nothing matters
but the deepest darkness which surrounds my form
the heat from my breath which cannot escape so returns to warm me
the rough feel of the woolen blanket against my bare skin.
reminding me
that i am still a part of this crazy world
with all its living
breathing
feeling
things
my arms wrap tighter around my chest
fingers round ribs,
falling into the gaps between each bone
still pressing
still holding
the sharp taste of blood reaches my nose as
in a futile attempt to abait the darkness
each finger delves into fleshing.
pushing
pushing
until the blood rises
though still,
it comes
the screams and the fear
