Schizophrenia

A Poem by Alexa

Writing all of my ideas down in my s****y little notebook.
Bound to forget to fix my thoughts on filling myself with air,
like the diseased oak tree in the backyard.
Remember when we used to have a tire swing?
We'd amuse ourselves for hours,
just spinning until we'd puke.
Ready?
Deep breath.
Set your gaze on the flickering streetlight,
start carving names and numbers,
dates and times into
flesh and bones rotting in the corners of your mind.
Numbers, letters, no meaning flash in your
subconscious,
quietly screaming as loudly as they can --
JUST F*****G PUT IT TOGETHER.
Heart pounding wildly,
scramble to write it all down.
Open said notebook, search for an empty page,
goddamn my pathetic attempts at poetry and prose.
... And it's gone.
Falling to pieces,
my great escape laughing in my face.