the taste of whiskey is bitter
it burns as it goes down my throat
i can feel it like poison as it enters
the whiskey goes to my head
it helps me stop feeling so cold
not only in temperature but in mood
it helps me let go
some people say they drink to forget
but i only drink to remember
to remember what it was like
being alive
cigarettes hurt my insides
i can only taste the cancer as
i willingly invite it to my system
the tingling sensation makes me calm
it's a distraction from the anger i feel
the burning is inviting
it tells me that i exist
and i exhale my own death
the cutting doesn't hurt
i don't mind it
when my own blood spills
the sting is all too familiar
adrenaline is a good friend
at least when my blood pours down
it reminds me that my heart
is still beating
i've become so numb
that i don't mind feeling
my own death
only so i can know
i am still alive
YOU ARE READING
lunar sadness // poetry of the insomniac
PoesíaTRIGGER WARNING; mentions of abuse, self-injury, drug use, sexual content, etc. read at your own risk. poetry is mine, most lyrics are not. i'll give credit to who wrote whatever. everything in this book is relevant to my own emotion. enjoy.
