Lately I've felt held back by a lot of constraints.
Burdens on my mind that I can't contain.
I want to express myself through words but it's getting difficult.
Because, frankly, **** rhyming, and **** watching my language.
**** all this depression and being hypocritical.
**** those lines I just wrote and **** how I feel about this poem.
**** how I came into this wanting to be reflective and negative.
**** it, in the words of my mother, "**** it all".
Just try to have a good time with your life before it's all gone.
It can be pretty ******* hard, but it's worth it.
Whenever life confronts you with obstructions, get the **** over it.
It's YOUR life, YOUR decisions, and YOUR results.
When you waste time on the things that don't matter, you've wasted too much.
So the next time something is irking you that doesn't really matter,
or you're not feeling well enough to  be positive,
do me a favor and think to yourself "**** it".
This is all we've got.
Don't waste it.
**** the small things, be happy.

I've always talked to myself,
but these days
I feel stereotypically crazy
the "I should be locked up for my own good"
kind of crazy.

I don't know how long
I spent in my room
laughing until
there were tears in my eyes.
Twice I made a move
to leave the room,
twice I collapsed laughing.
I wondered if I was actually crying,
But no,
it was laughter.

Laughter,
because my god,
it's all so **** funny.

I counted my Klonopin today.
She told me to ration them.
I took four on one day
three on another,
if I skip a day or two,
I'll be able to take
four on a different day.

It makes sense in my head.

Without the Klonopin,
I'm angry again.
She asks if I'm thinking
about eating today,
"not really idc"
An "I care" response
only elicits
"Sorry about that,"
too much of a coward to say
"That's not my problem"
or better yet,
"*******, leave me alone,
go tend to your partner,
or datemate,
or whatever the ******* call them."
Maybe I don't really mean it,
but there's only
"*******"
in my heart today.

I won't take the Klonopin today
so I can drink wine or a beer
or whatever is cheap.

It makes sense in my head,
as I continue to cackle to myself.

Who the ****
do you think you are,
Kerouac?

It's all a joke to me.
I walk and walk and walk
and I buy a too sweet coffee,
instead of *****,
which I tell myself
I'll buy later.

I can behave,
if I'm in public,
only emitting
a tiny chuckle
from time to time.
Everyone here
is absorbed in their lives.
No one will know the difference.

It's all a joke to me.

On rainy days
I see the gloom
Close the curtain
Here comes the doom.

Look out the window
Drops on the pane
Pulled me away
Feeling the strain

Yelling and screaming
Covering my ears
Away in my room
Distant from fears

Make it go away
Squeezing my pillows
Don't want to hear it
The argument continues

The silence is brutal
I hear no more falls
No slapping or cursing
The final curtain call