ill throw away my blades this time

they let their sticky humid hands
hold my glitching hologram body
against the scratchy playhouse
walls and drag their clammy
claws where no child should
think to rub all the while
whispering into my vacant ears
how they would beat me and
bite me and cut me and kick me
if anyone were to ever find out
our little game as tapeworm
tears sludged from my sickly
sweet rotting eyesockets and
down my shiny shaking dust
stained cheeks silently over my
cold and closing throat and
when my dad finally ripped the
splintering wooden door across
the sandy shifting floor i was so
pale pink blue i could have been
six hours dead save for my
fracturing porcelain and
plexiglass heart destructive and
bashing and shattering itself
through my frail and brittle
crumbling ribcage whispering to
me how badly my dad would
scream at me for the way we
were playing

my mom doesn't want me. she'd rather no daughter at all than one who is "sick". she says i make her life harder and that she is embarrassed by me. she says she is jealous of "normal kids". i dont blame her, i am too. i hate being "sick". but she didn't phrase it as if she wished i didn't suffer, oh no, she phrased it as if she wished she didnt have me.

currently i feel like downing my 90 day supply of fluoxetine, the 30ish days of sleep meds i have left, all my moms pills, and the hydrocodone we have left, take a bath, and slice my skin till im nothing but cuts

solemn silence
sleeping
seeping through

rites of
solitude

rites of
sleepless nights

weeks of
isolated
self medication

rites of what

sick silent solitude seeping through

rites of silence
of solitude

rites of sickness
deep within

slowly i learn
to push away the thoughts
of blood and bleeding
or pills and puking
of starving and loose jeans
of tragedies to other people unseen

slowly i tell myself
ill be okay
maybe

slowly maybe
i learn to recover

drinking and drowning
slowly i fall back
maybe i cant

slowly maybe
im stuck after all

slowly i pull myself
back up
i learn to shower
and eat and sleep
and exist again

my body destroyed
more and more each time

slowly maybe
i learn to love scars
and stretch marks
and chub

cheerful faces fall
slowly maybe i fall
back

but
slowly maybe
i learn to survive

and it makes me so ******* sick that any sort of mild ******* inconvenience makes me wanna **** myself
but i guess that's just it
the only solution in this miserable life

arm the so-called enemy to
shove the war down citizens throats
throw the blame onto anyone but yourselves

im sick of this smell
i hate feeling like the hospital
//
it feels like the hospital
cant sleep
ears hurt
stomach tight
mouth dry
smells like the hospital
pillow hard
walls cold
too warm
//
does the city feel a little bit like home or the hospital

i layed forever just holding back dry tears and when i finally got the courage to move i went through the motions of going to bed
and i got upstairs and i grabbed my guitar and i held it and i tried to play but i couldn't it kept getting worse so i just stood there
guitar in my hands and i was shaking and i couldn't breathe
so i layed down and i waited to be told goodnight and i layed on my side choking on myself
and then i couldn't move and i couldn't do anything and i tried to write but it didn't feel good so i layed in my side choking on myself
and i tried to draw but it almost made me cry so i layed on my side choking on myself
and i grabbed my guitar again and put it down and layed down on my side choking on myself
and i just couldn't break away and
it was the most awful feeling on earth
and i could hear so many things being said and i could see
so many things happening inside my head and i couldn't shut them out so the tears started to seep but i couldn't cry and i could feel myself choking
on myself and i couldn't do anything about it
choking on myself and
i couldn't do anything about it
choking on myself