I’ve often experienced loneliness
as a toxin. A chemical that corrodes, gnaws through my bones a chasm, a gaping wound in the depths of my ribcage. This characteristic feeling alerts me to the river tide drawing me in, the cosmic forces of mania & depression.
It is a fundamental emptiness;
it destroys everything, it leaves nothing
& nobody untouched.

Mold creeps through a sheet of paper, drifts gently down like a leaf, thin & translucent.
When did I start feeling this way? It had to be — but what changed?
Risperdal & lithium was my lucky combo, wasn’t it? I almost thought I had outrun you, my friend. What do other people see when their eyes are laid to rest? Stay awhile.
Stay & consume me.
I’d rather die a star-crossed lover than a miserable fool. To long for sorrow is as natural as breathing.
Bad Thoughts reverberate in the canyon between my ears.
I imagine a room painted with red. It’s my bathroom — but I am not there now. This isn’t my couch.
A speck of dust floats by, idly drifting in an infinite universe–