How nice it was:
you rocking me gently;
your arms around me,
and your breath in my ear,
and we both know that
it is okay
to say nothing for a while
and just let our chests
rise and fall
with our heartbeats.  

Fire.

The new layer of paint on the wall is cracking,
and those all too familiar bursts of despair are seeping through the gaps.
Hopelessness courses through my body like a poison, 
turning my thoughts black,
forcing open my mouth whilst my brain screams silently inside of my skull.

It rains in the morning,
and I don’t want to get out of bed.

I am incarcerated in this body, and trapped in this mind,
and they follow me everywhere,
and there is no escape.

I am fire, 
and I am burning him alive. 

Untitled.

I had a dream last night;

a dream that I found a book.
Inside that book were,
more or less,
the words;
I saw the wires to the bridge snap,
and it plunged into the water below.
On that bridge were walking two lovers,
and they plunged into the water too.
They tried to reach each other,
but the current pulled them apart.
She died.