A dance with my demons

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The shallow waters.

The burning bridges.
The hallowing alleys.
The deep wounds.

The darkness slipping in.
Unbidden.
And so it stays.
Not lurking, just there. Still.

The walls steep high.
Brick by brick,
I'm still building it up.
A castle for my own mind.

But it's okay.
Because, it's not fleeting,
not exhausting.
It is a constant.

I am used to it.
To my distractions.
I watch my actions turning into habits,
habits into obsessions.

Walking towards the sunset.
Not basking, just knowing
that darkness is a heartbeat away.
Into purgatory, I am slipping.

"Get over it", they say.
"Enough already," they warn.
Brushing it off as dirt.
But they don't know, do they?

The dirt is bending my spine,
aching my heart, eating me inside-out.
That it's burning, taking and destroying
everything it wants, one at a time.


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