it's the morning but not really
and I hear a clock/watch/bomb ticking
but sometimes I stop hearing it
and it makes me wonder if I'm crazy but not really
and my eyelids burn like I've been putting salt in my mascara
and my head feels like there's 43 acres of cotton inside
but not really
and my eyebrows are so heavy
and I'm so cold
and my eyelashes sting so I know I'm alive
but not really

MY MOTHER ALWAYS TAUGHT ME NEVER TO TOUCH DRUGS BUT THE LOVE IN YOUR BLOODSHOT EYES IS WORTH THE DISAPPOINTMENT IN HERS

YOU TOLD ME TO CALL YOU DADDY WHEN WE ****** AND I BLEW OUT MY THROAT FROM SCREAMING ALL NIGHT SO YOU PUT YOUR HAND OVER MY MOUTH AND I CANT TALK TO MY FATHER ON THE PHONE ANYMORE

it is 2:16 AM.
I am not awake because I am emptying my veins or medicine cabinets or tear ducts,
I am awake simply because I have not yet drifted into gray unconsciousness.
I will not fall asleep tonight on a salt soaked pillow-case and I will not wince every time my wrist rubs against the comforter.
I will fall asleep quickly, because I remembered to take my medicine, and I will stay asleep and dream of beautiful church buildings with stained glass windows and nativity porcelain and rooftop crucifixes I will not dream about jumping off.
When the bells ring, I will wake up and my mom will call me in for breakfast.
I will not be nervous.
I will not clasp my hands behind my back to hide my forearms.
I will eat eggs and toast and sausage and I will lick the grease from my fingers and it will taste good. It will not taste like calories. Like regret.
I will put my pants on and when they get stuck around my thighs I will groan and throw them out. I will not modify my body to fit into them.
My eyes will be bright and my veins intact and my shirt will be short sleeved and that will be alright.
I will be alright.

The fact is
we were a round peg
and a square hole.
I tried to sharpen my corners for you.
I failed.