Friday's words

I dream of you.
Nightmares, that is.

Cruel ones,
that pretend to be actual memories,
when I wake up.

I dream of hidden things,
of girls I know not;

of absence and abandonment.

OF LIES.

I then wake up with all my fears stuck into my throat;

preventing me from speaking,
making it hard just to breathe.

I do not speak.
For hours.
Unless I have to.

Because I figure that if I'm silent enough,
maybe I'll slowly disappear
- slowly, and silently.

When it happens and last,
I'd truly love to shoot myself.

But I have no gun.