i can't even breathe.

save me from myself, please

i’ve duct taped over my mouth

and there’s no clear way out

i’m not sure i’m breathing. 

 

the hallway stretches out

seemingly, an endless path of doubt

or a corridor of claustrophobia

no, i don’t think i’m breathing

 

she swallows me whole,

and i always fall in the swell--

drowning down the well

i choose to hold my breath

 

words relentlessly tear off of the pages

tears leave stains on my face

though they burn, i embrace them

i watch them fall, and i struggle to breathe

 

crimson blood flows through my veins

reflecting in a gold mirror, I am vain.

permission to write on my flesh and body,

but i dare not breathe.

 

shrieks and shouts howl about

and the night is cold without you

when alone, i dream of all my doubts

the covers suffocate my breathing.

 

i recognize my patterns as

confusing, overwhelming...

your stoic look is telling

there are concerns. i know.

I can’t breathe.

 

as resistant as i am

still you force me to come over,

i’m disappointed when you’re sober.

disgusting... breathe?

 

push it down, so much further

stray away from the logical brain;

creatively, try to numb all the pain.

and even after all of that,

i can’t even breathe.