What I want is a knife, a bottle of vodka, some juice, some pills and sleep. To fall asleep under bright neon city lights. No dreams. Nothing. Blank. Just sleep. To fall in between the silence and noise, while the world breathes on without me.

Then, I'll just dance and dance behind my eyes.

And maybe, I'd whisper the things that I would never say. To you. To myself. To everyone. These feelings. Words. They are burning the back of my throat, spilling from the tip of my tongue, spreading across my fingertips, coursing through my veins, and fizzing up my nose.

And I'd never return to the land of living.

Because that's what I need really.