In a room without things to see, hear, or play, voices crawl in my head things that arent there i see. Laughter only of my own distraught fell into place spaces getting closed in then breathed out like the room is alive, i just wanted to take a 'dive' and to think i will never make it out alive. I hate my room as I've been never to take death injections and insulins, I am wrapped in my own ideas with maniac laughter. I am seeing something that is after where paranoia and pain is done with me after seeing a lot of plaster. Walls covered with coushins of pillows with a door closed with a tiny square window. Let me die as I try to kill myself with the pillows.
by Loveless Poet (Kyle S.)