alltheavenueslookugly

days like this morning  wake up several times for minutes only  because i am interrupting nightmares and sometimes lovely dreams and i have twisted the sheets around my forehead and legs –

my eyelids are stapled shut and i have that dreaded noose knot in my stomach.

i have no idea what time it is but it must be morning or afternoon because the sun is shining through the sheets on my windows –

it’s too warm in this place and i am sweating shit like i might have broken all my fingers in a car door, or i accidentally cut my fingernails completely off and are storing them in a prescription bottle that used to be full of raindrops and cocaine crumbs.

this is morning anxiety at it’s finest.

i’m fully awake now. i need to piss and maybe vomit depending on how long i am able to stand or  if i feel like i can hold myself up enough to  get rid of it all so nobody can complain.

i’ve made this trip one thousand  times at least.

there are five empty water bottles sitting on the table.

leave the apartment and walk down the hallway stairs that are covered in dead beetles and bird feathers.

two petrified lizards on their backs –  mouths stuck and left open like they froze in the middle of a conversation.

half a cigarette and then back up the stairs – lock the deadbolt and put up the lock chain and instantly i feel safe again.

i’m sure nobody followed me and i am also sure that the texture of my skin has changed this morning  because now i’m rubbing my face into a pillow. and it feels different.

i think about leaving my apartment, going to the grocery store, walking down the street, and i can’t imagine how that would be possible. i can’t imagine just outside the door where everything awful might be staring me down.

it is a fucking intense fear.

it’s making me sick.

the longer it goes on the more likely i am to drown with dirt stuffed into my throat.

trust me.

i’ll try my best. but it’s really not up to me.

we should know this by now.

seven hours hidden sinking into the sofa

thinking wild  about everything from writing haiku to fetish pornography

and candy bars.

when the bus slows down everything balances out and the kitchen sink stops giving birth to irritating single fucking drops of  water that explode and echo and echo louder in the evening.

when my head calms and it is night once again

i will look psychotic and there is really no reason to doubt me anymore.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2014/05/06.

Posted in may14
Tags: anxiety, bipolar disorder, depression, dreams, drugs, guilt, isolation, medications, mental illness, nightmares, self harm