Depressants

Written: 2012-2013 x Edited: 2024

Every word you let die on your ears
seems to break you in some new way.

rusted & tiresome.

Not like the blades you hold against your skin.
No… they’re different somehow.
Each syllable a drip-drop you can’t watch
cleanly fall into a bathroom sink.

sad scared alone.

You’re always so alone
and there’s no reassurance grand enough
to break the handcuffs you swallowed
the key for.

You once took your tongue for a sledgehammer.
Now it’s nothing but a mouthful
of I’m sorries.