This might sound asinine
but diagnose me.
I know there's no cure,
yet there has to be something you could prescribe to sooth this disease.
Make me your human project.
Save me from turning inside out.
I'm on my knees with my hands on my head.
I can feel my thoughts itching under my skin.
I'm scratching my temple down to my skull.
My fingers are breaking bone by bone.
I don't believe in hell but if I did.
I swear,
If I could give it my own redefinition, this life would be it.