PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It's ladies night,

  all the girls live for free

(but you have to be dying to get in).

They can't diagnose dysphoria here,

  but they say it's all from watching T.V.

      I'll be out in a few years.

    They don't know how much it still hurts to breathe;

maybe they punctured my lungs with their needles.



Somehow, you grew from the ashes

  of your mother's cigarettes.

I never understood the relationship

  between second-hand smoke

      and your charcoal eyes,

but I think I'm getting it.



Can I hold you in my palms,

and love you with one-syllable words?

      I only need 20 seconds

to make you regret leaving me here last night.

    I guess you're too much of a gentleman

to take advantage if the situation-

I heard class is in this year.



Lock the door

        so no one can hear my shrieks.

  All the nurses try to make casual conversation,

but they just want to watch the life drain from my frail body.

      You laugh at my paranoia,

  but you don't see them poking

the veins in my arms at all hours of the night;

  they're going to bleed me dry,

and I'll never be well again.



The art of sanity is a tad overrated,

  but I can paint you in if you like.

      My batteries are dying,

but I still have time

to watch you grow into your ego.

  Yes, I'm being spiteful again-

I think the medication is having an effect

on my opinion of you.

  But we still have a mediocre love,

even though it only exists during visitation hours.



It's time for you to leave;

    if you promise to come back,

  I promise to stop acting crazy.

The doctors say I'm out of tomorrows,

    so you may have to pay them to release me

  (you have to release me).