Breaking

*letters and numbers tearing at my mind, Words decending upon my curled body. Sentences wrap around my neck. Paragraphs drown my lungs withering, and wailing, laying upon the floor. Music pounding in my ears, I cant hear. But they still speak. HELP ME. They are back. I must fight the black. -just relax, let us win. *my fighting will is getting thin. *the doctor told me they are fake, *And like a dream I should awake. -you cant run from us. -we are inside of you. *Then I shall run from myself. *therapists say, put them on a shelf. *Hands twitch, posessed with a voice, *taking over with out a choice. -Just relax. and it will be over - we are your four leaf clover. *In no way is this lucky *Remember breathing is the key. *Waves of exhaustion roll over me. *they... we.. NO! they want a spree. -we are almost done fighting -soon we shall be uniting *No. no no.no no noo *maybe.. no! well.... NO! *Another wave knocks me down, *I lose my grip, they go to town. ~Now we are one. our voices soothe the bruing fire in our head. if two minds are better than one, then how about 6? or even 12. Stumbling foward, or was that backwards? Doesnt matter. We will find them, they cant hide from us. Not when we are one. No more. They will pay we want your blood as our gloves. your organs as our necklace. Your arms so soft, how will they feel from the inside? your skin looks so nice, I cant wait to try....it....on...... *No. I pull my hand back from them. Tomarrow. you can have me tomarrow. not today. My daily saying. -Why fight us, -we both know you love the releife -the rush of the kill. *No I dont I dont need you. I dont want you I dont crave you I am done with you today. be gone! Cracking my eyes open, im covered in clothes, stolen. Headaches like hell what is that smell? I won. my head spun. I stand my balence lands I blink now I can think I walk i wont listen to their talk. I go back hand against the metal plaque. lights glare brightly blinding me painfully. I reach for help, nothing but a yelp. white coats come running. so many colors, stunning. Carried to a room I know not to assume. My mouth agape the needle is taped. Words tumble out I shake, with doubt my doctor comes in, Pats me on the head. "Good job. You won." I breathe in the sweet air I walked into the white lair, padded walls and whitewashed rooms shots and pills. but now the people are safe I beat them. Grasping on to one fleeting thought as I fade out: I win