Scared to death

In a corner of my room, on the floor in this doom. Corrupt and unjust with a knife ready to thrust, and a few empty cases of 18 packs of beer, with a syringe half full and a bloody nose and a hint of fear. I hear the voices screaming PICK UP THE PHONE ****ER! Wait, they don't say? I can't explain what's happening to me, I'm going insane, but only in my brain, I can't hold on with you telling me to die, I wanna see your eyes...Maybe that could clear these thoughts, because this knife to my throat is getting caught.