All That Crap

You know that f…..g feeling? 
Like someone took a tiny spoon and scraped out all your rotten insides. S-l-o-w-l-y. 
They really nailed it: now you’re walking around with this gaping void in your chest, waking up in a cold sweat. Or not sleeping at all. Honestly, not sleeping seems better to me.

Those blessed 24 hours of pain. 
You can lie there, staring at the ceiling, 
mindlessly working, texting your exes, 
praying, drinking. You can do it all at once. I’ve got that down.

"Most antidepressants don't mix well with alcohol, especially not in large quantities".

Who’d have guessed? But let’s not pretend to be the saintly doctor or Samaritan. 
Judge not, lest ye be judged, and all that crap.

Just get this goddamn weight off me, 
I can’t breathe. 
Slow, deep breath in through the nose. 
Slow, deep exhale through the mouth. 
Does that shit actually work for you?
It never works for me.

I’d love to get the hell out of here, 
but I’m stuck with these obligations, circumstances, work, relationships. The whole goddamn package. I’d wish this on everyone, honestly.

But I just want to go home. 
Just want to go home. 
And for it all to be over.



Русская версия:
http://stihi.ru/2024/05/05/12