http://wp.me/p2c3so-2Z This poem I wrote back in February perfectly sums up how I feel now. Once again, alone, in my room, mattress on the floor, shivering in the cold, and wondering if any of this is worth it. I do miss my thorazine dreams. Perhaps I’ll expand on this train of thought in the coming days. I hope some of you can relate to parts of the story. Life on the suicide bed. Life never lived or enjoyed. Life broken and charred. Life that begs for death to spare it from itself. I may soon get put back on thorazine. I look forward to the sweet stickiness of thought and mind, the out of body experience, the feeling that everything is ok, though the world may be crumbling away. Yes, I miss this feeling of bliss. I miss my thorazine dreams.