It comes and goes in waves,
Though I personally believe that is an understatement.
Tsunamis rush towards the shores of my mentality.
Crashing into walls built of Titanium. Or so I thought.
Stuck in the undertow
My hands dig through open space
As my lungs inhale the salty waters of this years depression.
Perhaps it will fade into background noise, only aroused in my moments of solitude.
Yet solitude and silence is all I seem to seek.
A moment away from the pounding sound of suicidal ideation.
Away from the fear of finding out what lies beyond the end of all things living.
It is a whirlwind. A hurricane full force at the front door of my mind.
My lungs have filled to the brim,
Weighed down by ties to reality which slip so easily from my grip.
Sometimes
I think to myself.
Perhaps.
Perhaps this is all just a Dream.
2019 - t.v
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Enveloping Darkness [ Poetry ]
Poetry'Life is C before D, after B' Jean-Paul Sartre, French philosopher and novelist. A collection of poems Written by Theodred V
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