Calamitous

when?

my heart rate ran slow
my eyelids were heavy
nauseous, on my own two feet
as I stood in a pool of my own demise

I picked up the shears, cutting away at locks that once hung past my shoulders
with each snip, I anticipate that rush of relief
that never came

I layed down, holding my knees to my chest
inhale... remember to do that
exhale... do it again. I remind myself, fearing i'm starting to forget
i can't seem to remember much

i took a deep breath
inhale
hold
i let it run down my throat, into my lungs
exhale
i choke, the burn from the smoke killing against my throat, waiting to feel lighter

i fell deeper, i felt weaker

i scratched, my nails dug in my skin
a little bit harder, a little bit faster
until i break my skin, hoping to relieve the brewing itch

and i showered. longer than i did the day before
i scrubbed my skin with deeply soaped sponges
i scrubbed until my skin was raw and red
i let the water burn my skin
and i scrubbed
and i felt dirty

and then i closed my eyes
not to rest, not to dream
to escape, is what i desired

what was found was not the escape i longed for
i fell into my own hell
my mind playing cruel tricks on me
taunting me, as i chased for a true escape, freeing myself from torment

i saw glimpses, of one's memories
not of my own, but of another
not someone i recognize, she was from the other

i watched as she smiled, while i cried
as she strutted while i ran
her eyes wide
my own rolling back into my head

and hatred brewed
pure envy
intense feelings for someone i did not know
how much i'd kill to be you

so when?

when will i be free?
free me of this hell, this torment

these thoughts hurt more than a hundred blades could
this day feels heavier than the last
this night succumbs me more and more

when?

my skin bled as my lungs burned, my eyes sore and my head hung low
a thousand pounds of weight stood tall on my shoulders
the weaker my heart grew

will there be a when?

the day i remember to breathe
when relief is brought to me as my eyes were wide
or do i wait? for the sweet song death has played blissfully in my ears?
a sorrowful tune, anticipating it's grand orchestra?

will that be when?

when i no longer tell myself to breathe?
when it's not needed
no scratching, bathing, or smoking could fix
when the shears cut just a little bit more than my dark dead locks

is that when?

death stands on the doorstep
silently and patiently
with an open hand, drapped in the fortnight's shadow
peacefully ready to fulfill the plan
to take me to the next land

so when?

do i sign on the dotted line
my life and soul away
my body withers and falls, finally
and I've reached the truest escape of all
when shall that be?
do i wait or take the leap to my own victory?

the girl laughed

i wailed

time makes its own run, while i think

do i stay? and wait for my turn? when my days become of what it was, as it was?
or do i make my final goodbye
of what's left

when?

when will i decide?

when do i go?

when will it all come back to me?

when can i become her?

when will my torment end?

when can i finally escape?

and so i ran
to the ends of the earth
over and over again
to find myself back to the start

when? when does it end?

- O.