I center my life around the very few things that are guaranteed stable,as my life loses semblance of any normalcy, routine, save the monotonous battles, wearing down of self.

Routine:
The 12 o'clock call Home.
The solitary dinner at the Student Center.
The Insomnia.

i've lost track of the last time i wasn't awake past 3 a.m, now pushed to 7.It is as if my life awaits the moment i see the clock tick its path down to the number, soul and mind coalesce with time and breathe together deeply, the marking of the end of another battle. tomorow will be yet another new day,the unending optimism dry humor.

my eyes are swimming to the top of my brain, heightened dome and the sound of drums. there are mirrors all around, reflecting the black on black, nightmares and the fear that keep me awake staring at blank caramel walls, waiting.
waiting for the hysteria, the delirium, the hallucinations, the 7 am ghost shadows curling around toes inching towards hands nails chin. I await, and there is no sleep.


She gave me a bottle she said, orange yellow glass this will put you to sleep. white marble buttons, deathpills or cherries, anything for relief from the drums the beating drums the screaming black mirrors. Is this what i have reduced to?
i stand witness to the annihilation of a beautiful soul, destruction i wasn't privy to until she told me she said,
here are all your pieces in this orange yellow glass. marble pieces take them home with you, before bed and with food, every night.

there is some beauty in this, i know. some beauty somehow.



here's to the first pill,
and hope.
-eeda