pneumonia
i’m tired of crying into my pages of poetry,
with my mouth stuffed with blackberries,
seeds spilling out and my tongue dyed a sickly purple
i want to lock myself up in the bathroom, swallow my dignity, and break something
to shatter the mirrors with shrieks, to tear the shower curtains apart with my teeth
i’m told to hold it together, to suck it up for everyone else
even with more tears welling in my chest, and i don’t think that’s fair
so i wrote in my journal about it and raged to myself, until i couldn’t keep it in my room anymore
i don’t beg, but i tried it out one sunday evening
i never try to take things i don’t think i can get, but i tried it when the sunset was red
i yelled and sobbed on concrete with spit on my knee and ants on my ankles,
i hit a safe like i saw someone in its stead, i tried codes and i tried yelling
i pressed my forehead against it and said please, like it would be moved in the slightest
i tore up bibles and begged for lighters,
i drank myself tipsy and called a string of numbers that someone different answers each time
i made a comedy out of myself and wrote the tragedies later,
i tried to make believe pink to swallow laying on my floor.
remembering the pills i spilled and how i threw them away, regretful.
for a moment i tried kidding myself,
saying at the beginning i was writing this for a moral or a lesson
i was going to say, maybe if i could scream more
i’d be less of an asshole, but really looking at it
i think i’d be a little bit worse.
just me coming home from the good old loony bin. this lowkey got kinda personal :/
#AddictionDangerToYourselfAngerMentalIllnessExPsychWardPatient
