sickness

I feel like I might be sick.


I'd cover my mouth, but my hand smells of something bitter.


I want to run until the skin on my feet tears.


I want to tie myself beneath the water, I want to hold my breath until I let out a sigh - and gasp - the liquid cools.


I want to lay on the road and wait for a miracle.


I want to go sleep and wake up dead.


I want you to answer.


I want you to leave me.


I miss you so.


But I hate myself.


I blame you. Why? Because it's easy.


It's easier to be angry at you then to accept that this is my fault.


Please answer.


I miss you.


I want someone to listen.


Anyone.


Where are you?


This room is too warm.


Where are you?














I'm home.