I am the beast at the end of the rope.

I crave white on white and black, but my thoughts race in glorious technicolour, prodding me awake, whipping away the warm blanket of invisibility every time it sears to smother my mind in nothing.

You get mixed messages because I have mixed feelings.

A small girl became increasingly paralysed by her parents' frequently violent rows. Sometimes she would spend hours standing completely still in the toilet, simply because that was where she happened to be when the fight began. Finally, in moments of calm, she would take bottles of milk from the fridge or doorstep and leave them in places where she may later become trapped. Her parents were unable to understand why they found bottles of sour milk in every room in the house.

I love you still, Against my will.

Here I am and there is my body dancing on glass In accident time where there are no accidents You have no choice the choice comes after

What I sometimes mistake for ecstasy is simply the absence of grief.