D&A

I haven’t showered in days,
and he’s always high.
He thinks I’m living the dream,
when in reality, I’m haunted by it.

My anxiety level is rising higher
than mountain peaks can reach,
and I’m not quite sure how much more brokenness I can take.

I’ve ran out of needles, trying to sew myself up over and over again.
I stare at empty bottles wondering if liquor would have helped the pain.

Probably not.
Nothing ever really does.
It walks beside me, even on my good days,
and forces me to hold its hand.

Poet: Stefanie Parrott 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s