And Aubrey was her name . .

One. . two. . three. . how many do I need? T ick tock. .   tick tock, how many more hours before I can sleep?   Paper-scissors-stone, which among them do I need?               There is nothing more harder than to be awake and thinking, while the word is still and sleeping, and there is nothing more tragic than a tumult inside that will never cease. I'll probably laugh if the ocean will claim that he is the deepest blue. Ha-Ha! Come on Ocean Blue, there are still a lot of men that are bluer than you!              If you have made to step out in your room this morning, then you belong to the lucky ones as most of us can't even get up in our beds, can't even zone out in our heads. A very dark place   but there's a comforting sense that it is safer here than to dwell outside. The darkness, the void, and the space inside our head, it is a retreat place when the immediate reality is becoming too sick to handle.               The world outside is full of hool

            It lights up burning hot. Glowing with blood, orange, and tinge of yellow, from one side to the other. Slowly piercing at the deeper surface. Cauterizing and showing off the tainted flesh. Flaring between smokes and bones. I inhale sharply the stench of fervor, and the tang of wildness until they burn a sickness in my throat making me choke, and breathing in the smoke soon again.             Every burn and every sting builds inside until it's deepening into my stomach like boulders and catches fire on its emptiness causing me to choke again. It's a never ending cycle of pain until I'm marred and breaks into ashes.                           I am not like the others. I am burning in hell, the hell of myself. Sometimes it's strickening but more often it's thrilling. I had that kind of fire that kept my demons warm. Fire is uncool and relapses don't give comfort, yeah. But you know the rad thing about fire? It spreads incredibly and sometimes like