Rambling

If grief was an ocean, I’m stuck somewhere on the dark, sandy bottom.

If you were a picture, I’d rip you in two, shred you, watch you blow away in the wind.

If we were a memory, I’d hit my head so hard to make us disappear.

If death is an ultimatum, I choose to hide it in the corner so I don’t have to look at it anymore.

And if you were a miracle, why am I always the one stuck saving?

Pennies and Dimes

Once cared –

Now, despair.

Hope squeezed, battered,

Beaten out,

Oozing through cracks.

Cracks the size of pennies, nickels, maybe dimes.

Cracks growing, splitting

Wider by the second.

Fading

I am fading in and out of reality.

I am a walking zombie that cannot find a place to fall and rest.

The medicine is supposed to rewire my brain to want to live,

But this exhaustion just enhances my need for eternal sleep.

I know that before I can ask for help I must first help myself,

But sometimes I just want to be taken care of.