Bad Choices Meet Anxiety

It’s pulling me,
dragging me,
yanking my skin
from my bones
in tiny tremors,

and I can’t stop
doing things
to make it worse.

Each step ignites
even more aching shudders,
ones that drive spikes
into my eyes
until I scream out,
knowing that each bite
is my own,
each sour drop of pain
began with me,
with the steps
I can’t stop making.

I’m about to destroy myself.
Fuck it.
I already have.

I am only shattered bits,
tiny tendrils of something
that used to be,
someone who once was

Now, I am pieces.

And I have no one to blame but myself.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s