silently battling not to use it.

it's stored away with all the t-shirts that i own.

the clock ticks, it feels like my head pulsing.

the ticking pulls me in.

closer and deeper.

that i loose sense of time and self.

and i think, what if the escape?

my clock says 2:17 am.

no one would find me unconscious at this hour, and by the time they do...

my hands tingle.

and minutes later i find myself holding it.

my eyes burn looking at it.

my head spins thinking "what if."

my hands tickle.

i have power.

power to show.

so why am i scared to show it?

my tongue dries just by the thought of it.

but it's what i want.

i open the box slowly,

as sweat slowly trickles down my neck.

i'm just going to look at it. just look at the pills. all organized by level of fatality.

but i know perfectly well that is a lie.

and now i'm battling.

to live through tomorrow.

or to swallow contents of the box, without water.

because i want to feel them go down my throat, to wait for them to work.

and that's my silent battle

ever dead, dark night