Food for Wolves

This is torture. This is fucking torture and it won't stop.

I can't sleep. I can't eat.  I can't concentrate. I can't think. I can't move. I'm hardly living. I feel like I'm dead already and they just haven't put me in my damn coffee. I meant coffin. I don't know anymore.

I feel like the emptiness inside of me has been filled, with an anchor of pure negativity. It's pulling me down and down into the depths of the jaws of this beast that I just can't seem to recognize yet. It's slowly closing its trap upon me and then there will be no hope left. Nothing but me in the darkness.

And then I'll just be food for wolves.