Strawberry Gashes

they say suicidal tendencies

merely exist in silver screens

or that metal band--

not even a soul would pin their ears back to

because it reverberates akin to the cries

in my heart, constant echoing,

deafened

gunshots ringing in the atmosphere

laughing

saying that it’s all in my head

you can’t be depressed

that’s what the tots do for attention

mouthing rudiments

than be redolent of drugs

self-medication

we’re all sad

that’s why in a room of a hundred I’m the only one clad in sleeves

tallying down the days like a convict in prison

a suspect in the murder of my own mind

and concrete has never been so soft

a brick room keeps mum the guise

and imagination gets the best of us

faux visions

schizophrenic

and my split personality is probably better than me

I don’t know anything

i don’t know my own triggers

pin prick and all