I am going to keep updating this through the night. 7/18/26 I feel like writing tonight

1. Myth or Thought
My days are wearing off —
do I become a myth, or just a thought?
The nights go unremembered,
lost forever, out of my control.
Memories pass. They cease to be.
What's left are short life spans,
lived only through the dark,
where we picture, we imagine,
a great, aspirational life —
then morning comes.
It just ends.

2. Reality
Afraid to see reality, I can't tell what's real,
alone all day to much time,
alcohol, hides the truth,
speed, holds my tears,
Klonopin, sadness in my eyes,
my life, death in the future.

3. My Cocktail
Amphetamine, alcohol,
my cocktail to make me me.
Insufflation, drinking,
hoping to feel free.
My world! My world —
heart finally pumping,
blood flowing, faster, faster,
away from any thoughts that chase me.

4. Ignored
My hands shake uncontrollably,
more and more violently.
The thoughts consume my body entirely.
Look away — they ignore my cries for help.
Turning to go opposite ways,
ignoring my agony I feel every day.

5. Ruined
All these thoughts, pointless —
a whirlwind of pain in my head.
The perfect night for a hopeful mind,
ruined by myself with drink and a line.

6. Still Lost
Up and down, loud and quiet,
cloudy and clear —
I'm still lost.

7. I Swear!
I won't lie anymore.
I won't sin anymore.
I will respect everyone.
I will put others first.
I will be a better man.
I will learn to love.
Then I woke up.

8. Countdown
3 hours till my suicide.
2 hours — is this time really the last?
1 hour, pacing, panicked.
0 hour, bleeding out.
No hours now. I'm returned to hell.

9. Psychosis
Psychosis — that is what my dreams are,
the reasonable explanation
for the terrors in my night.
Heart racing, torn muscles,
the unfathomable looking me
into the darkness void.
The fear turns me into a child in panic.
No thoughts make sense, no truth to any of it.
The great depression, morning open, woken.
That's how I start my day.
Darkness.

10. What Am I
My ailment, my sickness, my obsessions —
my ending diagnosis.
A fever of severity,
a malady which never ends within my mind.
The deranged puzzle of an addicted mind,
the metamorphosis of humane to sly.
Truly a lunatic's manifestation
is what I am.
Only a god who is evil
could bear a child like myself.
Only evil could create
a mask of human flesh
to hide the sinister ideas swirling inside.
They made me look so innocent,
but a torch, ever engulfed, to bear.
What am I.
What's inside one.
What am I.