My title is…

The quiet is like a blanket that slowly smothers

the cold creates a delicious numbing feeling

that ever so slowly creeps up the body

starting in the toes and fingers and

spreading through the body like blood rushes through

I could reach for the many blankets all around me

bury beneath them to have warm battle cold

giving warmth the fighting chance

but here I sit relishing in the cold

as it slowly spreads through winning the

battle against my body heat

I take a twisted pleasure in the cold

like a child does when they know they shouldn’t

touch the hot thing but they touch it anyways

just so they know the feel

I know what cold feels like

but I feel the need to feel it once more

the last memory of it fading as I replace

it with the new memory with the familiar but

still new sensations

because unlike the child who doesn’t know better

I know exactly what the cold will do

welcoming it like an old friend

as the cold sweeps through undefeated

numb it’s aid in the war will come rushing

quickly behind to quash any warmth or feelings

left fighting for life

it’s the numbing feeling that will reign victorious

as the cold kills the warmth

the numb acts as the only blanket I need

killing the voices in my head

killing the emptiness I feel

welcoming me with open arms

with a smirk on it’s face

knowing it has once again one the battle

with no resistance from it’s host.

I was never one for titles…

It’s raining and I can hear it pounding the house. thud thud thud. It’s soothing in a way hearing the sounds, pretending it’s slowly drowning the world. I listen to the rumbles as they slowly start to fade, moving further and further away while the lighting flashes violently outside. I secretly call to the thunder wanting to hear the loud crack above which gives that rush of adrenaline because you’re never sure when it is going to crack like a loud balloon being popped. I start to count one Mississippi…two Mississippi…waiting for a flash to tell how close or how far the storm is. Maybe that’s backwards, maybe I’m suppose to count after lighting till I hear thunder, yet I keep counting one Mississippi…two Mississippi …each crack I hear. The rain starts to dull from hard violent thuds to soft pitter patter and I’m left screaming for the storm to come back, cursing the storm for understanding the rumblings in my head, easing the pain for a moment before moving on just as quickly as it came. If only it could take the storm inside me with it but inside the thoughts battle each other like thunder clashing and all the fears, doubts, insecurities rain constantly down. Sometimes, there’s bright patches like lightning flashing the sky but mostly there is the low rumble of thunder. that constant hum that makes your hair stand on end and alerts you to coming storm but keeps you constantly in the dark. It’s the type of thunder that never eases, never fades, that just rumbles through out the day constantly. You wish it would go away and take the storm with it or release the storm and let the sun come through after, but it never does. The thunder inside just sits there. Never ceasing… Never stopping… just a constant hum with no lighting to signify the coming or going. One Mississippi.. two Mississippi ….three Mississippi and still not a flash in the sky, no light in the dark, no easing of the constant storm outside or in.