A Lost Day Turns into a Lost Week

i don’t like that poetry reading room

nothing good happens in a basement

and for every familiar face i see

which is at least half of this community

there’s one i never reached out to

or met up for coffee and so many

of their hands are on me

that i start to pretend

im contagious and that

i have to go home early


and maybe i dont want

my blood to be radioactive

for my arms and legs

to jolt and twitch

or to ever leave

my apartment again

maybe im ok

with running out

of medication

or maybe i just

ran out of insurance

and cant make the calls

to get it back again

maybe i was sick anyways

of my psychiatrist

trying to get me perfect

maybe im just finished

doing everything that needed doing

and now, it’s finally time

for me to just lie here

and be still and close my eyes

to everything that did

and didnt happen

maybe that sounds

like a good enough time

3 thoughts on “A Lost Day Turns into a Lost Week

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