white noise and white sheets. start off gentle and end violently. we melt the winter off our cold skin until were sticking to the sheets. its not like a song. its not like poetry. its not the choppy quick scenes in R-rated movies. its real. you feel the pain. you feel the pleasure. you feel that warm hand on the small of your neck and you dig your nails deep. you fight back. you lose everything and you fade away. the city outside your window goes quiet. the lights in your room start to dim. you stop caring about work. you stop caring about bills. you stop caring about everything. stronger than six shots of whiskey deep, your body feels weak. you swallow each breath i take and you spit it out. you stop caring about being loud. and for just a split second you die. no suicide note. no last words. just a feeling of being lost in peace.