When you have someone asking you If you feel suicidal Eight times a day You start to feel like maybe you should be Otherwise… They would have let you go by now
You blink. And notice There are no clocks on the walls Making you painfully aware That the ticking sound is just in your head Trying to cope Without the security of time
They tell you you have to feel better Before you can go home But you have to be home In order to feel better You know that. But you start to wonder If they’ll ever figure it out
It occurs to you That this group of strangers Are now in control of your life They could lock the door for months Isolate you from all you know And tell you it’s for your own safety
You are stuck.
The lights in the hallway flicker Like the programmed beginning Of a horror movie You blink. And another set of lanyards and clipboards Are standing in front of you Asking if you feel like hurting yourself Or someone else today
It’s getting harder to tell the truth And the other patients; Vociferously desperate around you Are the most intense form of peer pressure
Seconds feel like hours And days like years You blink. And the frustration of keeping your sanity Drips from your eyes Your own tears used as evidence For the lie they want you to admit
Your eyelids droop Heavy with the exhaustion Of keeping a sound mind
Either way You know it’s only a matter of time Before you blink again.
The scrawlings of a madman Stuck in my head They aren't meant to be seen And certainly not read Insanity through carvings The life that I led For the period of time That I lived my life dead Black rivers of nonsense Like the blood that I shed The words on the paper Hang by a thread
The scrawlings of a madman Slain in my bed Poisonous ink My appetite fed Just ****** and repeated My limp body spread Crystal white sheets Now dripping with red Ripped open too wide From the places I bled The logical lunacy Fills me with dread
The scrawlings of a madman All wisdom has fled Turn the next page And forget what I said It seems I forgot The demons I wed The scrawlings of a madman Came from my head.
I met a friend today His name was Death He smiled big with pure white teeth And minty fresh breath I asked him what he did for a living Staring blankly at me, batting his eyelashes He did the opposite of giving What did that mean? But the closer I got to Death The better I understood his scheme In his sharp black suit he won me over I felt an irresistible draw Like to a diamond in the rough, or a four leaf clover He convinced me of the beauty in the night That when the moon was hidden from view There was nothing better than the lack of light He led me from my **** for life Sang to me in my sleep Whispered sweet nothings and handed me the knife I tried to pull away from my newly found friend But his choke hold was so tight On him I started to depend The world could see me deteriorate into nothing He held me harder and closer With shortness of breath I stood huffing and puffing Enclosed in the lackluster of our friendship I became numb The emotions drifted with my vitality I tried to retrieve them but could only attain 1/5th of my former sum The more time you spend with a person The more you become like them I suppose I couldn't see the situation worsen Collar around my neck he leashed me like a dog I cared so deeply for him My haze filled mind ignored the dense fog I came to terms with my life long trap Death circled like a satellite around my position No matter where I went he found my place on the map Eventually I succame to this fate Despite his control Death, I could not hate I loved him too dearly to notice the signs I couldn't think clearly His presence was odious and it wasn't benign