Dark starts closing in,
teeth bared;
as threatening as a flower,
but as deadly as a gun.
Scars illuminated by the glowing screen,
eyes burning from sleeplessness.
Wearing south park pajamas that don't belong to me,
drinking cold tea and smoking stale cigarettes.
A bottle of Tylenol Extra Strength,
100 capsules minus three.
Nails chewed too short,
each tap on e a c h l e t t e r causes a sharp pain.
A dying plant,
a crying cat,
cold feet and
bad headache.
His voice haunts me,
saying,
"this world belongs to me"
with the volume on low.
Tickets to the show right in front of me,
pure unexcitement threatening to turn my insides to jelly.
But not really.
A thousand lies they told me,
promises and reassurances.
But to what purpose?
Did they dislike me so much?
They have what they desired,
they have no more me.
A friend
indeed
is a friend
who doesn't need
you in their lives at all.
Crush up a Tylenol and roll up a ticket,
it won't do anything but there's a first for everything.
It burns,
yea baby, it burns.
At least I can feel something.
At least I can feel anything.
What I wouldn't do for a fist to the face,
for a knife to the chest,
for a gun to the heart, to the head,
to the end.
What I wouldn't do to fall to the ground,
bleeding and broken.
How good it must feel to finally cripple.
What I wouldn't do for the synthetic oxygen,
the IV, the bed, the s****y food and blue gown.
What I wouldn't do to watch the
heart monitor jump and blip,
watch it spaz and scream.
Oh what I wouldn't do to feel something.
Anything.
My sinus' are burning.
Pointless.
Worthless.
The only way to feel anything is an incision in the skin,
but it's been so long and I don't want to turn back.
But I could.
And I think I would.
If I wasn't so scared.
Scared of my power.
It's power.
The reaction.
The pain it would inflict upon him.
He sleeps and he doesn't know I have them in my hand,
that I caress my wrist with its deadly edge.
I could part the flesh and spill my blood all over this keyboard,
all over this desk,
all over his clothes,
all over this place.
But I wouldn't.
He keeps me sane.
Makes me smile.
And maybe, I think,
he will save me.
I put down the blades,
just in time,
his grandfather walks by.
I force my thoughts to alter their course
and I momentarily consider sleep.
I consider blowing my nose to remove the excess powder.
[what I wouldn't do for a fix...
then I remember the 2 gram joint in my cigarette pack
and I decide as long as I know it's there, I'm fine]
I consider curling up beside him,
but I don't want to wake him.
* * *
I look out the window and see the dark is
being consumed by the earliest signs of light,
and by 6:30,
I feel my eyes and body start to get heavy.
To sleep now would mean exactly six hours of rest.
All I pray is that I can sleep with the pain
I've just inflicted on my sinus cavity.
and oh, god, I love him.
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