pollypocket

I feel like a revolving door, spinning out of control.
A thing of convenience, always there yet usually disregaded as anything more than what I am.
I want to be more, I want to feel more.
My heart shatters into a million pieces,
glittering on the cold floor beneath my toes.
My insecurity, my own inhibitions push me forward.
I step on the pieces, a cannibal am I.
Grinding the remains to dust.
The adrenaline rushes to my brain, a dizzying
effect that makes me want to pass out.
Get out of my head, I don't want to think.
I ache, I yearn... temptation flicks at my throat.
My fingers take on minds of their own,
they pull my hand towards the phone.
Something inside me awakens, and I release.
My good sense has returned, saving that which remains of my sanity.