EyelessDonovan

You can feel it, the itching of a blade against your skin. You can taste it, the bittersweet poison against your lips, whiskey instead. Music embraces you holding your body as if to say its okay slip away. Your mind is foggy desolated and isolated from everyone, including you. Scared? No. That doesn't justify your emotion. Haunted. Haunted by these thoughts… crashing on you like waves suffocating your every plea to scream for help. Anchored and going under. You can feel it. You can taste it. Tickling your fingertips Almost there just a little bit further.