Getting Better

I always hated when people picked at scabs

And yet, here I am, doing the same thing

Fumbling for band-aids with my unbloody hand

As I reach for the gauze I laugh slightly hazed

How can I sit here and do something so

So rash

I punch at my legs until the aching is so profound

That I can no longer bring myself to bring my fists

Down, down, down

The clock keeps ticking and my heart keeps sputtering

Irregular beats, slowing to almost a halt

And then fumping faster, faster, faster

Irrational anger accompanies my

Irrational fears and behaviors

Yes, I love you

And yes, I messed it all up

Because it’s four am and I’m screaming into open fist

Closed palm, and bloody stomach

Closed heart, and triple even uneven unending control

It’s all about control, isn’t it really?

Control your mood with medications

Control your behaviors with therapy

Control your self-hate with hurting

Control your weight with purging

And I’m burning up, sitting here

I’m screwing up talking here

And dear, you pegged me

I don’t really want to get better

Reviews

[Jeff Loquist]

I think...sometimes...it's more about letting go...which it seems like you have here. Nice work.