Shadows

My friends often ask me
"How do I stay afloat in this world?
Every time I close my eyes to sleep
instead of slipping into the darkness,
I drown in it."

I wonder if they can tell that I'm drowning
just as much as they are.

I really don't think they can.

I try to be the rock for them,
but the only rock I ever end up being
is the one that sinks to the bottom of the lake
because it couldn't float to begin with.

I've forgotten what it's like to wake up
and instead of having my chest
be paralyzed with fear and sadness,
smile at the rays of sun that come through my window.

It's almost like an asthma attack.
My lungs fill with despair,
my heart speeds up to run from the fear,
and my head begins to cloud with shadows.

As the panic begins to rise,
the shadows mix with blood,
and the only way to get them out
is to spill them all on the floor.

But the floorboards, already stained
with a mixture of black and red
are proof that letting blood
treats the symptoms, not the source.

With the darkness creeping in
and polluting my veins and thoughts,
my mind jumps to the obvious:
Without any more blood,
the shadows cannot live.

With nothing to corrupt
they cannot spread any further.
So I seek to stop the flow

Forever.

But contrary to my thoughts,
the sleep that would come is filled
with night
not with light, but more darkness.

So awake I sit. And awake I stay.