Just one last try, one last taste, one last dissolution of time and space.
Once more in pain, once more in fear, once more for blissful nothingness.

Why is it that what tears and stamps on a soul is what we cry for, endlessly looping and running backwards, clawing for pain?
Torture binds us in dissociative bliss and holds us until we sleep.
Stillness settles around the words and feelings that swirl around us.

Embracing its chaos with open eyes — bleary and stinging — we walk in strength toward beautiful azure seas.

No more clawing, no more one more time, just this once, next time it will stop, next time it will be better, I’ll be better, they’ll be better…

How about you are better than you ever were —
and you’re mine and I’m yours,
and there is all for you to see.

Open your eyes. Walk free.