This house is my refuge on most days, four walls and a ceiling keeping me safe from the sun’s rays. The light scares me now but not as much as I scare myself.
Loneliness, a constant companion, only taking his coffee break when I force myself to sleep. That’s when the changing of the guards occur. In comes the Past like some beautiful monster, tearing me down until I’m left crumbled in a ball of pain, waking to my own screams, bleeding from wounds that have never liked the idea of needles and thred, preferring their crimson red, dripping and gaping like a soundless cry.
And when Morning comes around haphazardly knocking on my door and Day grabs me from the fortress of my sheets, I spend the next eight hours fumbling in a drunken stupor without having sipped a drop of Dionysian delight.
The guards change shifts once again at dusk and old man Loneliness comes back ’round, chains in hand. The night swells as do my thoughts, my body gives out with regret and relief all at once only to be thrown into the arms of the Past. He haunts my dreams you see. He eats at my heart every night and slowly devours my mind until there’s nothing left but a shell of who I once was.