I was floating,
I was flying,
Now I feel I'm slowly dying.
I didn't stop,
I didn't think,
Now I feel myself sink.

Spiraling up,
swooping down,
doing things without fear
of consequence,
waking
and knowing
I'm screwed.

Not caring what anyone
may say,
hurting when they say too much.

Crying shame,
cutting blame,
binging and starving,
a complex mess.

I take my life day by day;
I cannot plan for the future,
for it isn't certain.

And people will judge me-
do judge me-
because of what I do
when I feel I am with the stars.

Those happy times are all
I clutch onto
when I tumble into the quicksand.

Crazy b****.