Going, Going, Gone

It won’t come out of me.
It’s stuck inside.
Maybe it’s not even inside.
How would I know?

If it is gone what then?
It’s all I have.
What else can I do?
What if that’s it?

I already have nothing.
Nothing.
Now I have less than nothing.
Less. Than. Nothing.

Will it come back?
What do you think?
What do I think?
Neither matter.

It scares me.
I can’t breathe.
It petrified me.
I can’t think.

I watch it trickle down the drain.
No. It already gone down.
I can see it when I look down.
The dirty grimy putrid drain.

What else can I do?
Draw?
Ha. Pitiful.
It won’t sustain me.

It is all or nothing.
Don’t abandon me.
I love you.
And so I cry.