If the meds aren’t enough,
then what shall fulfill your drive
to stay alive?

Haven’t you had enough already,
to have your insides ruptured?

Is this how you end things,
without leaving any
trace of ******?

suffocating, stuck, struck suddenly stressed
what’s a man to do when he’s sunk, sad and depressed?

The blind, bitter, *******’s been bountifully blessed
but can’t hold his head up high or even bother to dress.

He takes tablets of toxins, he’s told it’s only a test
he’s at the end of his rope now and he’s totally threshed

He’s seen a lot of ****** sights, seen his sisters suppressed
he’s seen the face of god too, but he wasn’t impressed.

I’m not sure what jarred me loose,
Maybe the medication,
Maybe the ***,
Maybe the drinks I had sitting here,
Maybe just the texting,
But something just shook off the ashes and rose.
Something shifted, something SHIFTED.
I want to run, HA, no going back.
I got my parachute, time to fall and see where I land.

I take one to keep the blues away;
One so I don't peel my skin like a banana;
One so I can sleep without being chased by death;
One so I don't jump out of the car on the highway;
One so I don't run down the street naked talking about ethical consumption under capitalism;
One so I don't cry about the sad looking potato chip;
One to **** the pain in my heart;
One so I can focus on my school work;
One so I don't tell my teacher he looks like a bridge troll;
And one so I don't fall in love with you.

My mind thought it was dead
for five long years
living a life under clouds of medication
raining blues on my forehead
I did not know what it meant
to be awake
I only knew what it meant
to not want to die
I look in the mirror and see surviving
as if survivor is my only worth
bleeding thick black lines
onto paper so thin
it disintegrates as I write
my bones are awed at the thought
that maybe it didn’t need to be this way
smoking lungs deciding whether to
keep putting out the fire
or let my body burn
burn with my own inspiration
love that buried itself in my ribcage
and made itself a prison
worried about the hurt that would
crush my hands to powder
like it did before I learned
how to silence my mind,
it is deciding whether to be broken
or swimming in my own head
learning to think again
against my body’s wishes
it’s being okay or creative
finding light
finding life
or finding nothing in return