S.O.S

On the edge of my mind, I wonder how good it would feel to jump from my mental cliffs. My tormented inner mountains with snowy frozen tears on top. Call the doctor, they said. Truth is I don’t feel like calling anybody. Tired of walk and stumble, my legs search for relief on an imaginary couch where I can lay down, sink and disappear. It cuts deep to know me. Think I should break the mirrors and become invisible, join the Earth as my body feeds the roots of beautiful trees. Maybe some pretty bird will sing a song to the wind that will remind you of who I was – remind you of how loving I tried to be. I failed, for that I’m deeply sorry. Truth is it’s too late and I need to leave back home. Back to the wombs of non-existence, to where darkness has no meaning. Pain consumes me like feathers on fire. I hear haunted lullabies on the streets. I need help but my hands are too exhausted to reach yours. So leave me on the bed. Promise I’ll sleep tight as I promise to be your sweetest boy ever after. Your sweetest love. The greatest.