tainted weeds

[misterpoet]

my emotions are fragmented glass;
my blood runs black
tainted from the depression,
soiled, in my soul
the weeds keep growing,
around my lungs,
through my mind;
suffocating,
leaving to breathe
small inhales -
breaking thoughts,
separating images,
diluting the imagination
description, picture,
leaving my hand paralyzed;
my body weak
plunged into a hole,
a morbid place,
laying thoughtless;
my notebook
a dust collector -
the pens ink
now clotted,
pushing
to my heart,
to kill me;
breaking under pressure,
from unbecoming words -
the shell of sanity
cracks;
the flow stops.