I'm invisible,

Because you can't see me,

Screaming until I've faded away.

Can't hurt if I can't be seen.

If I can't dwell, or wallow.

No giving in.

So I am tossed through the blades,

Hoped to bleed,

I will not scream,

I won't break the silence I've built up around myself,

Won't let it be small shards and needles around my feet.

Black widow crawling into my mouth,

Eating all of my words,

And crawling down my throat,

Into an empty space.

Everything that belongs,

Spread out along the floor,

My heart beating, echoing, not in my chest,

All of it puddles of blood,

Where I can see the spider drown,

Thrashing inside my eyes,

Irises pools of red,

Drops of viscera spattered on my eyelashes,

Like morning dew,

Thunder beating at my tattered ears.

Won't shed a single tear,

For the black venomous,

Little insectile being that dies somewhere within me.

So why does the ceiling cry?

More rivulets of vermilion envelope me.

I see the spider no longer convulses,

On the cold tile floor.

It felt the chill,

Its lungs filled with blood of ice...

Because I wanted it to...

I wanted it gone.

My words are my own.

None can take them from me.

Not even the dead, black spider.

I open my mouth,

To swallow the rain.

It is warm and thick.

But it is not like human blood.

It belongs to the insects,

Crawling in the crypts.

They will outlive you,

Devouring your grave,

With utter malevolence.

Tell myself not to scream,

As I am taken over by the numbing ability to feel.

It would swell under my flesh.

I am the shadow who bleeds,

The pale shadow,

That creeps through a nightmare.

I feel.