why is it that i think i can write when i'm drunk
it's one thing to escape our world,
but it's another to escape my own.

a whirlwind of back and forth
deep regret for not existing like i should
i wonder if all days will be filled like this

crippling thoughts that pick at the brain
wondering if anything i produce will be good enough
enough to coax my ego
and fill the belly of success

enough that i can stop doubting my every move
will it end?

swear to god, *******
i'll drop kick your ***
come an inch closer
try me

if i can smell the *****
pouring out of your plaque infested mouth
i'll break every tooth in your jaw

with one swing

how easily i've let being damaged
swallow
my entire existence

i've known nothing more than half committed partners
and my mother's dead relationship

how terrifying being healthy becomes

i have watched my best friend turn on to me
a friend, who was barely a friend at all
a friend, who enabled my addictions
a friend, who only half listened

before it soured, i seized the reins
and like a teacup chihuahua behind a fence
he jabbered
he screetched

and now, my toxic friend
you're leaving

i can barely face you,
not because you scare me
but because you fill me with disgust

i am so glad i didn't not become you.

you cannot give into your
*******
you need to get up
right now
and do everything you said you were going
to do

what happened, lina?
what happened to the spark you had
last night?
why are you so lazy
today?

oh no lina, you cannot run away from your
responsibilities
and prior committments
this is your fault for piling
everything on
your shoulders

i listen to jazz in the morning
when the sun is not out
and the gloom engulfs my house

i wonder how something so sweet could come from such pain

what is it that possess me to write
why is it that it is so hard to bring thoughts to life
why is it so hard to confront myself

but its so easy to want to bash my own head in
and numb my body

have you ever not understood your own happiness?
what is it that gives my life light, that is not dependent on others

is it through my writing,
or am i just not good
enough

maybe i should stop battling my brain over battling others

i don't know how to live in this body
think in this body
breathe in air full of burning metal

i circle until i pass out

every time my stomach growls, my face folds into a frown
'i cannot be hungry!' i tell myself, 'i ate at 6pm yesterday!'
it is now 7am

i think about how much money i'd save with only one meal a day

sometimes, when my depression sinks in i won't shower for days
i'd rather smoke **** and sink into my bedroom
i let my mind melt, bees circling the inside of my brain in a low hum

when they hum too loud, i smoke again