from the past

“i’ve had hallucinations like that”
no really
and i don’t even need drugs to do it
my brain used to give me all
that nightmare shit for free

but when it happens all the time
everyday is like a bad trip
and it just keeps getting worse
and it left dark circles under my eyes
and shaking hands
and so many cuts on my arm

because there is nothing poetic
about watching great black and bony
wings rip themselves out of someone's back
and you swear that it is snowing inside
since the cold flakes feel so real
and the wall inhales and exhales
against your back as you slide down it
to the floor

and it’s really fucking hard
to find a boy or a girl
that will save you from yourself
when you don’t even know if the
chair that you’re sitting in is real

and it’s really fucking hard
to be saved by someone when that
isn’t realistic in the slightest
and hollywood knows that as well
because mental illness is not a thing
that can be cured by sappy poems
and chocolate and being told
that you are beautiful

because i was not beautiful
i was chewing holes into
the insides of my cheeks
and worrying bloody grooves into
my lips and dried blood
stuck to all the sleeves of my shirts
and so many sleepless nights
because even with my eyes closed
i still saw every horrible thing

and there was no one to save me
because when i told my mother
between sobbing and shaking so much
that my teeth chattered she looked right at me
and told me that i just had an overactive imagination

and that was when the question of
if i knew that the things i saw weren’t real
became so many other moot points
because crazy is as crazy does
and the things i saw
the things i saw
put so many scars on my arms
because blood is real
and if it bleeds it has to be real
it just has to be