The sun rises in the east. I sit with my back turned to the light hanging on to the descending darkness. The mercury within me rises, at the tip boiling to breakthrough and overflow. No matter what I do to keep it down, swallow it with air or water, it bubbles rising slowly. My muscles pull my weight down, like the fishes in Finding Nemo struggling to stay alive in the water. But the emotion rises until it eventually spills over.

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It was 3 AM. I sat up feeling the nausea of a kicking restless passion for the loss of something within me, something I can't place. Where did it go and where could it be? I wish I could answer this. But the lack of knowledge of what “it” is fails me halfway. I walked to the living room and sat on the sofa staring at the carpet. The designs stood out. There were four dots here but only three there. It looked so perfect on the whole. As one big picture. But as I looked closer I noticed, the two horn like things on the left weren't on the right. The blobs were of different sizes everywhere. Intricacy gone wrong. Much like the lines of the life my hand was clutching so tightly within itself as I lullabied myself to sleep in the walls of my mother's womb.

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I lie down again, slowly wiping tears with a napkin I thought was white. Pure, just sucking the little bits of emotion that had spilt out. The rest just bubbling at the surface stinging the edges of my sore eyes with salty tears. I closed my eyes and imagined the earlier magnificence of your lava lamp that put me in a trance just minutes ago. The bubbles of wax just go past each other, like the way I have to avoid a pervert trying to bang the edge of his arm into my not at all well endowed chest. But sometimes the wax just bang right into each other amalgamating into a bigger being. And in the end when it hits the edge, the lava splashes in zeal emitting streaks of bright orange and pink.

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The thought of those sights edited very brilliantly by my mind to the soundtrack of a Radiohead song, reminded me of you. Moments of turmoil interrupted now and then, and so I gasped. But the overall tempo remained in the hands of peace. I then dug for another face. Another person, I could talk to or want to curl into when I'm in the fear of impending death. Another face that will recognize when life is slowly slipping out of my soul. Another person who will know when everything is lost.

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What if there was a soul transplant or a soul surgery. Would anyone want my soul? Ill thoughts began to circle around me like a little tornado. Like the ying and yang coming together in war. Something phenomenal about to happen. As I reached the pinnacle, almost about to orgasm in the sinful thoughts of just letting go and being sucked into the sky. I turned to my left. And you were there. Just sleeping, tranquilized by peace, knowing I was right next to you safe in the fence of your protection and love.

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You stopped it. You stopped it from destroying me. For one night. For two nights.

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Tonight, I head to bed just knowing that if I chose to fly away in the tornado of my ill thoughts and disappear, you wouldn't sleep as peacefully.