My thoughts dance through the creeping shadows
until they're caught between the jagged cracks of daylight.
Perpetually being seared by the world.
waiting to be remembered and embraced by the twilight.

Hollow cavern with a layer of dust
Swirling and shifting in a light breeze.
Everywhere else is darkness, nothingness, emptiness.
I am hopeful or hopeless or somewhere in between;
the weight of being empty continuously presses against my lungs

Four walls and a door propped open.
Roof comfortably overhead.
Full size bed with a squishy mattress.
Glass of water on the bedside table.

Prescription bottles gathered on the dresser.
Parental gaze from overhead.
Creeping fear from the open door.
Broken shard of glass on the floor.

Blood pooling in the carpet.
**** deep in both arms.
Well-known fear out the open door.
Broken body on the floor.

Insomnia is not for the weary
It kills the hours of the night

Depression is not for the broken
It murders them on sight

Anxiety is not for the frightened
It makes their heart beat fast

Bulimia is not for the hungry
It swallows them up too fast

Self harm is not for the fragile
It won't let them just be

Love is not for the anyone
Especially not for me.