HABITS
//read left first, then right. centred with both//
I have bad habits.
I have good habits.
But it’s okay.
But that is not okay.
No.
No.
It’s not supposed to be dangerous.
It’s supposed to be more dangerous.
It was never supposed to spin so far out of control.
It’s so scary to have control.
But that’s why they’re called bad habits, right?
But that’s why they’re called good habits, right?
Because they’re damaging.
Because they provide safety.
NO.
IT. IS. NOT. THAT. SIMPLE.
My habits destroy me.
My habits save me.
Kill me.
Keep me alive.
Tear me to pieces.
Hold me together.
Hurt me.
Drive the pain away.
Suffocate me.
Let me breathe.
Poison me.
Cleanse me.
Contaminate me.
Rid me of illness.
My eyes scream
My eyes beg
not for safety.
not for destruction
rather for destruction.
rather for safety.
NO.
My soul screams
My soul cries
not for refuge.
not for danger
rather the two most simple words
rather the two hardest words
“r u i n m e.”
“h e l p m e.”
I cry.
Tears stain my cheeks
the salt burning my raw skin
contaminating me with disease,
SADNESS.
Tears stain my cheeks
the salt hydrating my skin
ridding me from stress,
RELIEF.
I drink.
Liquor stings my throat
the alcohol drowning my veins
poisoning me with delusion,
DEMENTIA.
Liquor stings my throat
the alcohol coursing my veins
cleansing me of bad memories.
ESCAPE.
I smoke.
Vapors fill my lungs
the nicotine strangling my chest
suffocating me with daze,
UNCONSCIOUSNESS.
Vapors fill my lungs
the nicotine releasing my chest
letting me breathe free of anxiety,
LIBERATION.
I claw.
Nails scrape out my skin
the wounds missing from my body
hurting my hollowed heart,
EMPTINESS.
Nails scrape out my skin
the wounds replacing what’s missing
driving the pain from my heart,
SATISFACTION.
I cut.
Blades slitting across my wrist
the blood drips down
tearing apart my soul,
BROKEN.
Blades slitting across my wrist
the blood drips freely
fusing the pieces of my soul together.
FREEDOM.
I try to take my life.
Ropes, pills, bullets,
over and over and over
countless times,
killing me.
proving me right.
I. AM. NOT. WORTH. ENOUGH. TO. LIVE.
Ropes, pills, bullets,
over and over and over
countless times.
not succeeding.
proving me wrong.
I. AM. WORTH. MORE. THAN. THIS. LIFE.
I HAVE LOST THIS WAR.
I HAVE WON THIS WAR.
it gets better.