There's no appropriate title because my heart is so cluttered it's all turning blank.

When you are upset
Not by one prick but nests of creepy crawlies
Some built up, some newly formed

The world seems to conspire against you like erupting lava.

Every word, every action, every occurrence

The magic will not be found
The magic has to be within your soul

And if you lose it,

It's gone forever like the sunken Titanic.

It's a downward spiral

You feel yourself sinking, deeper, deeper, into the depths of your very own hell.

It burns, but not really.

It's suffocating, but you can breathe if you want to

It's dark, but the switch is there waiting

Sometimes, you get down here to sort out thoughts
Make decisions. Decide what to get rid of in your life.

Decide that it's negativity, but realize that you are willing to suck all that sour stuff up because...

Because. 

Sometimes, you get down there unknowingly.

Past memories come back to haunt you.

You hate to live in the past, but whenever this rare occurrence decides to reappear,

You crash. You slam on the brakes but you hit the tree anyway.

Blinding lights. Someone called the ambulance.

Oh, but your soul has drifted out of your body again.

Suspended in the air by your own contradictions, you wish to stay out a little longer. 

It's not pain or one dimensional sadness you feel.

Like most humans, it's a vigorous boiling mixture of thick, slimy goo with the occasional floating dead corpse of a mouse. Its mouth hangs open, and goo slips in and out of it accordingly with the swishing of the molten-lava-like substance in the rusty pot.

There's so much on your mind

There's so much.

But all you need right now

Is crawl back into bed,

Have that cup of warm tea

Get into that shell you created

Tomorrow

You will be a new you again.