How do you tell
a heart to stop racing,
a mind to stop pacing
a girl to start facing
her greatest fears?
Hopeless ruminations.
Pathological expectations.
Deep and dangerous downward spirals.
I let gravity drag me.
I let inertia keep me.
I let the whole world think that I don’t care.
When I’m numb,
it’s like I’m not even there.
And who am I?
And who was I?
And who will I be
if I let this
illness
get the best of me?
Repetitive.
Trance.
Music.
Predictable shapes.
Falling.
Fitting.
Instant gratification.
Justification
of hasty
decisions.
Visions emblazoned
on memory
overdrive.
Hypnotize—
paralyze—
aching psyche.
Numbness
equals
no pain.
Fingers clicking
ticking
time
away.
Brainless.
Mindless.
Wasteland Fortress.
Soulless Savior.
Tetris games.
Man versus antidepressant.
Pretty pill wins.
Ladybugs and smiley faces.
Trading out my sins.
One replaces the other.
Selfish tears and sorrow.
Pushed into the corner.
At least I’ll see tomorrow.
Reality in chemicals.
Disillusioned vision.
Either way will lead to hell.
Choose the pretty prison.
(written 25-April-2006… I have no patience to write anything new but felt like posting this)
I need coffee in the morning
just to get me going.
A vitamin at lunch time
to keep things up to par.
Some chocolate in the afternoon
to get me to the finish.
And then I pop that Happy Pill
to keep me half-way sane.
But really
just one kiss from you
would probably do the same.
I gave up alcohol.
Now I feign nicotine instead.
It’s harsher on the lungs
but softer on the head.
And usually it’s not so hard
to get up out of bed.
Just a little puff to feel alive
and know that you are dead.
