The mess in my head.

I am consumed with illness No one can see it but it’s there, it just swirls around picking up speed until I am driven insane.
What Is it, why is it there and why wont it FUCK OFF It’s never ending, ever growing and all consuming and it lives inside my head. I can’t carry it anymore, I just want to rip it off, get it away, shake it off.

How do you explain something that people can’t see? I have more understanding of religion now. If someone feels the presence of god the way I know the presence of this demon is real, who am I to argue that it’s not. Seeing is not believing. Seeing is the weakest of the senses.

I clean, I organise and I sort to try and find a way for the pure energy to enter my body But it never does, its illusive energy continues to evade me. No matter what I do it just won't find a way in. There is something inside me that blocks it, pushes away the better and feeds on the worse. My veins remain green and brown, pumping the sickness around until it takes over completely.

Everything that goes through my mind is drenched in disease. I just want clean water I want fun I want innocence I want joy I want a life back

I am looking out through my eyes but my vision is murky I can’t see anything properly The real me is shrinking smaller and smaller Further away from my field of vision I barely remain inside me anymore

Instead I cy And then I don't because what's the point I have nothing left Everything is just an act to make others feel better So they don't worry, to decrease their suffering Because why make others part of this pain

My soul departed months ago. My human body remains, the cells make up my shell. The shell is all that’s left and it's not strong enough to take the knocks. It's covered in dents and being held together by masking tape. I am breathing but I'm not taking a breath, I am not breathing in.

But then I feel something. A small body crawling into bed It twists and moves until it moulds itself perfectly into my shell It breathes a sigh of relief It has found its space.

Even though my broken shell is all that remains, I am still this little persons home They still find comfort in my shell They don't care that it's broken, battered and bruised. They need it to survive.

Then the flashes come through. They pass through my mind quickly, in small bursts of colour. The smile when they see you, The podgy warm hands around your neck, The I love you’s The innocence And then I know.

I am not giving in.