poetry

low

I made the bed at 3 PM

I haven’t cleaned in weeks

I don’t know what I eat these days

I don’t know if I sleep

My laundry’s piled on my desk

And work litters the floor

I’ve lost the energy to live

But don’t care anymore

The world is pressing through the walls

I can’t get out of bed

I don’t want to be useless, but

I can’t escape my head

A day, a week, a month goes by

It all blurs into one

I fall behind, but guess it’s fine

There’s nothing to be done

Maybe I should worry that

The nightmares have come back

Or that I make myself feel sick

Or my life is not on track

But instead I’m tired

So I think I’ll close my eyes

Maybe when I open them

Everything will look alright.

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poetry

ache

your words are too

weighty, too

big

for my tired mind;

my eyes are glazed,

my throat is tight,

the things you are saying

that you are doing

seem unreal, otherworldly.

they should not be

this distant,

but you are loud and heavy

you take up too much space

you have too much mass

for me, for today,

and it is easier

to drown you out

than take you in.

 

poetry

sick

i feel sick

your words

were not intended

to make me feel bad

but i am guilty

i am wrong

i am a mistake

i am sick you hate me

you hate me you hate

your words scream

at me they make me feel

sick they make me

feel shaky they

tear me down tear me apart

tear into me

a simple comment

a suggestion

you are not in the wrong

you are not to blame

it is just this,

that i am weak.

poetry

sorry.

“how’ve you been?”

i don’t really know.

sorry.

“are you doing okay?”

no.

sorry.

“what’ve you been up to?”

worrying, picking my skin,

wishing i were dead,

skipping meals.

sorry.

“are you good?”

not really;

i’m generally a

pretty shitty

person.

sorry.

sorry that i couldn’t be

fine

and that i’m an inconvenience

and a burden.

i just want to

be alright and

instead i’m shutting down.

don’t ask me how i am

because i can’t lie

right now.