Help

This thirst I cannot quench. My mouth always remains dry. It needs to feed on anything it can get but rejects it all the same.

Like how the blood on my hands never wash away. Stained, they remain- Fading only in memory, marking out my future.

My feet are cold. I have cold feet- Too scared to dare in to a place that I have built in my head.

My stomach churns and my head reels. Everything seems to be going past fast leaving me in the same spot.

With my eyes wide shut I look in to a hole within myself that sucks away any inkling of an emotion that could show me the way to how I feel.