Can. It…

Heaving heavily after pushing open the front doors, knowing that only darkness was lingering around with me. Its presence was prominent. I was micro-sleeping on my drive back, beaten down by the everyday errands, my heart was wearied to get back up again. I’m worried. The little ol’ faith squeaked inside me.

Tired, my eyelids were heavier than the obstinate bulls, trying to keep them open. I still nee… My mind snapped. I broke into a haphazard, shoving everything at sight aside, violently rushing to get my dose of LSD. Slamming the kitchen cupboard hard, scrambling the insides just to gasp that nothing was there.

My body was twitching, at the brink of dysfunction- withdrawal. I could not make sense of the world around me. Time was subjective, my head went hay-wired, letting out a miserable roar of an addict. Banging my body parts against the cold hard concrete, just to listen to it reverberate against my thoughts, giving them a little earthquake.

The worrisome presence sneaked up beside me, placing its slender thin fingers across my cheeks, drawing some blood to have a taste from. Sliiippp… It was horrendous, the sound and its looks. My eyes caught a glimpse of it again, the ugliest creature alive with the scariest features bloodied across its demeanor, yet I did not have the energy to retaliate.

A subtle gleam slipped into the corner of my eyes, the kitchen knife was laying freely on the floor. I twitched for a second, my body swerved itself to get the knife swiftly, slowly pressing it against my subcutaneous layer, piercing myself with ecstasy- an enlightened contour of darkness.

I felt the articulation of sharpness clearly within me, dragging it closer to my veins. Crimson caked my hands, I pulled the knife near my tongue, licking it like how it did. The odious presence grew stronger, it was getting more excited, more enthralled, more blood-thirsty.

“Do it.”

Breaking into a vicious beast. I rammed the knife all around me, lacerating every part of my body, giving out the shout of victory and comfort, creating the perfect mess of me in and out of me. A final touch to this piece of art, the cherry to the cake, I aimed the knife into my neck, decided to give a clean cut to my silver cord.

Clang. Clang. “NOO!!!” the knife was thrown away from me, she came back after all.

“WHAT THE…” her lips pressed against mine, exchanging the warmth of life, the surge of love deluged me.

I am cared.

Somebody cares for me.

You are not alone in this battle.

Craving for more? Down below:
We, Maybe.
Talk Too Much.
The Rush.
Sigh. (June Goals)

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

10 thoughts on “Can. It…

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