Self Destruction 9/13/17

Lost time in an unconscious mind.
I drift as if I've lost grasp on the concept of time.
Clocks are now just pictures on the wall.

My memory is as blurry as a smeared lens.
My brain was once a writer that ran out of ink and put down the pen.
I just hope he never writes again; no more memories, please.

I no longer find pleasure in words I speak.
Because I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I should just wire my jaw shut, so, for once, I don't only have to hear me.
My own voice is now a constant ringing in my head.

I don't enjoy writing as much anymore.
I'm slowly beginning to hate every letter, word, or sentences I form.
It's no longer filling the gaping, transparent hole that is emptiness in my chest.
It's also the only form of self expression I have left.
Look through me, see my transparency that is my empty, like blank paper held to a light source.

I should just let myself crumble to pieces like a section of dry earth?
Maybe after I turn to dust, It'll feel like a rebirth.
What's the consequences of demolition and renovation?
Will it be the key to my rehabilition?
I fear the repercussions of changing; who will I be when it's over?

I fear my destruction will lead to a life of endless regret and pain that I can never undo.

I'm scared of what falling apart will do.