A feeling low in your gut;

Wild, wanting -- embarrassing

It wanders, aimless and restless;

Arrives home on all the wrong occasions

Sometimes it's steady, relentless;

A long open drive; relaxing in its monotony

Praised and hated; it can cling

Wring you out and leave you to die

I want a boy made of wild hair and lightning

Frosty fingers and a smile like morning.

I want to drive; wild, windy and unknown

The growl of the engine, my only home.

I want tattoos; ink bleeding over me; a total work of art

People adore art; now me too; I give their heart a jump-start

I want to be thin, small and light on my feet

I'll be fast and quick and hide beneath the seat.

I want to be lovely, just for you

Give a reason to love me like you do

I want what can not be.

I want what I do not need.

Sleepless nights follow me,

Clinging to my skin;

a heavy weight that feels like home

Its a secret

That doesn't yearn for freedom

I keep it close and safe

And wonder if I should release it

But no one asks

So I don't tell

There is a hollow point at the centre of my body. It scares me.

It is a black hole that follows me. Slowly expanding pulling more and more of me apart, scattering the pieces and swallowing them whole.

Stay back, far back from me. Don't stand too close. You are a sun. A sun must shine.

Please.

Please don't.

Please, get back.

Please, stay away.

Ple-

Can light exist with out dark?

Can a sun shine with the infinite darkness behind it?

Your light makes my darkness only the more darker, more scary, more infinite.

But I need it.

The worst thing is the split second that you wake up but your mind hasn't caught on to the fact.

You're choking, gasping desperately drawing in air as your eyes search your water stained ceiling for something that's not there.

You relax slowly back into the bed. You're shaking. Your muscles, your bones, it all hurts like you were stuck there for hours. You might have been.

But really all you do is wonder why everything seems so more more scarier in hindsight than it did in that moment.

The scars on your body are scarier than wounds they came from.

The absence of ringing in your ears terrorises you more than the sound did back then.

Your breathing returns to normal, your heartbeat slows but nothing else does.

Your phone blinks at you from where it's half jammed under the empty pillow.

You've been tagged in something.

You're gasping for breath again, muscles seizing up as your heart rate picks up and you're laughing. Arm flopped over your eyes as the video repeats itself in your hand.

You're grinning up at the ceiling. You're okay. Mostly.