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it's time, love...


it was dark
and i felt the familiar chill
felt the cold touch
at the nape of my neck
and the putrid breath in my nostrils
and i knew it was time
it had come for me again.

i feared it,
i accepted it,
i called it my companion
i surrendered,
pretended to derive pleasure
in its torture
hoping that it would hurt less
hoping that it would give up
if it could not feel my suffering 
the fodder for its existence 
but all of it was in vain. 
the hurt was all the same, each time
as the demon sucked
positivity out of my existence
it made me hate myself
made me feel unloved
showed me how people betrayed me
how no one cared. 
the demon continued its assault
like it always did
making me its slave.

it froze me in place
climbed in bed with me -
each night, night after night
i knew then, 
it owned me, forever
and there would be no escaping at all.

the acceptance does not make it easier
just like knowing that a knife would hurt -
does not make it less painful -
when it actually happens.

the demon has invaded my dreams now
and i often wake up sweating
feeling lonely and lost
i have asked it to leave me alone
and heard the guttural laughter in response.

the demon is here to stay
whether i like it or not.
there are moments, 
when the demon rests
satiated with what it has done to me
like a lover satiated after sex;
it lies next to me
its claws digging into my waist
its breath warm on my neck
i pull myself away from it
even though it hurts
the scratches, the sharp cuts
anything feels better than what is;
the bleeding pain is momentary
and welcoming
as compared to the things 
it does to me when awake.

i long for an escape,
end to the all of it
leave everything behind and run
says the voice inside my head
but i know
there’s nowhere to go

i listen to music
it lifts my spirit
and i forget the pain for a while
i take a deep breath 
lose myself in the music
and i smile until -
i feel the demon's grip on my neck again
and it whispers in my ear - 
"it's time, love"
and i close my eyes
as it begins to nibble on my mind again
taking bits of pieces of me away
i am its food,
the nourishment it needs -
to be what it is.
my knees weaken
as it begins to devour me
and i collapse back into it
a helpless tattered doll.

it always start slow
a nibble here and a nibble there
but then the hunger
brings out its true form
it digs its claws deeper
and the attack begins, 
its fangs suck
the energy out of me
it fucks with my mind 
it becomes merciless as it loses its control
it scares me to death -
but makes sure i do not die
so that it could devour me again 
and again -
as and when it likes.

this goes on - 
the slow torture during the day
the invasion of my dreams at night
until one day it decides to take a break
and leave me alone for a while
let me revel in the sweet sensation 
that all is well
that i am safe
but, i know too well by now
it is temporary
it is an illusion
demon is real -
my slavery to it is real.



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Books by Arti Honrao


Depression is REAL

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