I got these
Stale wounds,
Cut open -
Mispoken -
Blood soaked in,
Subsume.
I don't feel
What's real
Again.
Slip by and just pass
Like a sail with no mast,
And you're trying to get past
The past
Because it hurts more
Now in the present.
My brain is more dead
And insane
To refrain
And reframe -
Just to end up more poor than a peasant.
I pleased myself,
Released myself.
Just lost the keys
To free myself.
Chained up,
And bound
By my beautiful face
That only keeps its frown.
And I want to die now
Here's a ******* countdown
To a new year,
Play it by my good ear
Sit here,
Right there,
And contemplate
The insurgent hate
I have for myself.
This is the depressive lock down.
Lose it.