insufferable

the birds in my head, might be caught

on the street, 

only tire marks left- why is it that no longer i'm terrified of being 

dead?

 

i scare myself even more than i disgust

the outside turning in,

the others are within

and the whitenoise is insufferably 

loud - a laughtrack and applause.

 

unimaginable scenarious hilariously

average, turned by the mess, that is

yours truly

 

no more hot, wet, black or pain, 

just warm, damp, gray, 

a numb brain

 

its a film screen with the curtains drawn

and how do you get out 

without leaving it all?

 

how do I turn the birds inside out?

those dammned without responsiveness, 

are so very, very insufferably, irresponsibly

alive

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741