She drew a breath of the cold, fresh air, and then exhaled. Condensation left her lips like visible life, dancing in the air, and then leaving her, alone, to take her next lungful. Her tired eyes looked upward, searching for sunshine in the bleak, grey sky. A sigh of disappointment left her as she found none. Walking down the street she caught sight of her reflection in a shop window. She turned angrily away from it, muttering to herself, as if the window was personally forcing her to confront her own mirror image. She strode back to her apartment; full of purpose but lost in thought. 
Back in her room she sunk into her chair wearily, the darkness creeping in; that beautiful, bittersweet darkness that she readily welcomed. She clung to her mind for one last second,
and then let go. 

I feel.

I feel.
I feel the biting wind on my skin,
and the burn in my legs,
and the strain in my back.
I feel my tired eyes,
and my emptiness.
I feel the darkness,
and the grab of a familiar force.
I feel the suffering,
and then,
all at once,
I feel nothing. 

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.

2.39am

Underneath my skin
like a pin prick
growing to a clawing at my insides

I'm thick like tar and
everything is always wrong
words are wrong and
all the bruises collect and collaborate
to hurt me further

Just be perfect
just for a little while
an undirected request
but I need it


The house smells like Christmas
but I feel the cold seeping in
and the lights turning off


I'm like embers;
smouldering but dying


You're doing so well 
but there's cracks
and they look like chasms to me
where I can confirm my own worthlessness
and spit venom
whilst I hollow out my soul

You,
and I,
we just need to be perfect for a while.

Skin.

Swirling

circling

all-encompassing

darkness

Choking

bursting

screaming

failure

Desperate

clawing

burning

hatred

Notebooks

numbers

porcelain and

pain

I am pulling out my soul

and I wish it would come out faster.