Note: I’m just vomiting words. I'm feeling down and I want to get better so I'm writing.


April really is the cruelest month just like “The Waste Land” said.

Except for me, April is full of heavy pollen, heavy rain, heavy flowers, heavy hell, heavy—heavy, and hell.

I creep out of my room every single morning. I have brought a hateful temper. There is a string that runs from my heart to my hellish bedroom; it keeps pulling me back. Like a monster. A sentient being with a bigger appetite than even my very own cravings. It hungers for sleep and rest and drunken forgetfulness.

No more wine or melatonin gummies. No more happy coffee mornings. No savory taste. All dulled. All dark.

But these days the sun is brighter than heaven and hotter than hell.

I gnash my teeth sitting, boiling in the tub. Inside anger bleeds into my face. I'm all skin pulled in negative directions.

In the bathroom mirror, I stare at a bare body. Feel nothing. Hate it all. I feel it all and I am drifting subconsciously.

I’ve bit at my finger too many times. Skin’s all patchy. My teeth gnaw at my lips. My nails find old imperfections to itch.

There is a demon inside something ‘inside.’

I had too much sugar today.
Too much coffee.
Too much thinking.
Too much silence.
Too much time to myself.
Too much imagination.
Too much selfishness.
Too much perfection.
Too much hate for sleep.

I am spiraling, spinning down to the damn drain.
But the drain is clogged and I am drowning in the stationary pool.

© SteelBlue