I relapsed again.
Six even gouges across my right thigh.

Their going to leave some nasty scars.
But I couldn't breathe the night I did it.
And they made me inhale evenly.

I can't escape them. They're my only friends at four in the morning when I'm collapsed in the shadows of my room.

I tell them all I'm better.
But I still think about taking every last bit of my Ritalin.
Or submerging my head under water.
Four whole minutes, I'd leave my face under.
Maybe fall from the top of my roof.
I'd make sure to free fall backwards this time.


I relapsed again. For the first time in four months.
*waste of space|waste of space|waste of space|space|space|waste