A Collection of Poems

Untitled

Someone once told me a story
About one whose pain couldn't die.
She tried every trick in the book
But couldn't break the nerves
Which created that suffering path.
I laughed because pain was a stranger
That came to visit me each night
When I thought I could fall asleep
He sat at my bedside
But he didn't ever say a thing.
Each day he got closer and closer
Listening to every choked breath
I took.
He walked me to school like my
Mother once did
But he never left me at the gates.
With a tight grip he followed me to
Every class and at lunch
His friend, Anxiety, accompanied us both.
Anxiety did some strange things but
The strangest was that he was present
In my head every day and in my veins
Every minute before those lunches.
He lived in the joints of my fingers
And the gaps in between my ribs
And sometimes when I had panic attacks
I breathed his vapour out of my mouth.
But no matter how much I cut
I couldn't drain them from my blood.
So one day I stopped cutting.
And I locked them both into my arteries.
I haven't looked for them yet
But I know they still live
In the space under my fingernails
That I can never seem to reach
And no matter how many days I breathe
They never leave.
Not through the words that stream from my mouth
Or the air from my nose when I'm counting
One, two
Don't, breathe
Four, five
Release, every breath from my lungs
Until they shrivel.
And now I have realised
That they are a part of me
And no matter how hard I try
I can't fucking die.