i roped off the light switch in my room with sticky, note covered bandaids and a smiley face that thought thank you out loud. ace of spades card with it's corner wedged tightly, awkwardly into a crevice of my clock--reminding me wake up when the alarm goes off and it's still dark outside. bare feet on cold carpet, bare thighs in cold air; someone's going to have to start the coffee around here.
and yes, i'll wake you up when i hear the drone of a morning siren seeping through the cracks in your door, the noise alone is not enough to bother someone so far gone on pain pills and benzodiazepines. and i am a devoted member of the amphetamine club lately, i will stagger about in this hard, empty house with my notebooks and journals encircling me and pulling me to my feet until vyvance and adderall and ritalin fold together in my stomach and press my eyelids open, coax my cheeks into a shit-eating grin, again.
it's like she said: medication pumps me full of emotion. socialization rids me of my calm. i remember living for days like this; in a state of hypnagogic hallucinations while time flitted past in seconds and minutes. that was the only place i felt okay around you. between dreams and waking, i would pull your hands up close to my lips and breathe soft and slow and sweet. and i could feel this--your lungs jerked so much quicker, so much more shallow than mine.
she said, "i need to feel safe in my own home."
is anybody hearing this?
is anybody hearing this?
