Psychosis; A Memoir

these shadows keep lying - trying to fool me into believing that we are friends, it's just there is already darkness, (a demons lair), inside my head; devils sent to torture. what has been damned. what is already dead.

there are voices calling out to me again, this fear which drives me - this nauseous dread. voices, again. voices. plotting my death.

footsteps. i hear footsteps. creaking floorboards. hearing them. sensing shadows, mere atoms & dust, bound together by the weight of an emotional debt.

these shadows reach out, these demons, they touch. clenched fists. knuckles bone white. nails embedded in flesh. broken skin. blood; red.

these howls from Hell echo within ourselves. murmurs, stifled laughter, names, my name. I think someones following me. be swift, be silent. I catch myself still memorising licence plates.

I cave in. I break down. I load the syringe. push. plunger in. injecting. toxic dosed for three days straight, at least those shadows faded away, alas it is never too far that they stray. whispers first, then a demonic fucking plague.

wonder what happens, when one day they'd rather just stay? what happens when I am no longer able to shoot them back into my veins? when no longer am I able to inject them away?

lying - trying to convince me that we were friends. shadows, devils, demons. white, unmarked vans. itching deep inside my veins. the phone lines crackle, static & torn. our calls must be tapped. utterly alone, walking home. leaves rustle & a cold wind blows. fear, my old friend, rises up heavy, in my throat. wonder what happens when shadows finally catch up, falling in line with the shadow that was once my own. take it, just as they seized my sanity & perhaps I'll get front row seats, perhaps then I will finally believe in what happens when the darkness comes to visit me.