I'm in a pissy mood so listen close.

I'm wasting my life,

time swallowed by white ratty dogs,

and people who let themselves go,

unknowing of the pain it shoves down your throat,

like a knot that just won't break.

Come meet me by the ageing lake,

but it's the same route as always,

cutting through waves,

leaving a trail of foam like

an airplane sending an arc of

milky pollution across the sky.

It's breaking me.

But I won't be depressed again,

I won't fall again,

I won't give up again

and I won't slip and

trip and

drown...Again.

I feel tired beneath the sunlight

slanted across my open feet,

when I tip my head back all I hear

and feel is stale air,

baked and cooked until

it's ashen with smog.

It's boredom but it's endless,

and it's anxious but it's forgetful

and lonely.

I hate summer.

I've always hated it,

alone in a house while others

venture through their youth

––a tunnel with light at the end,

or a subway that slices neatly

through the city to

where you want to be.

F**k it.

F**k it all with the rage at the earth

and the rage at a God somewhere

that gave me a sensitive mind

and a breakable heart that cracks

and disappoints all too easily.

It was never meant to hold from the start,

weak clay and smudged with paint

––it overflows.

It slips,

trips,

and drowns

in its own blood.

---

Hi :)

There's so much about this poem that just doesn't feel right and I'm itching to change, but I was starting to have a panic attack and this is what came out, in a one-sentence-long rant. I felt myself able to breathe as I broke it down, clicking enter as I created space between each hateful line, and it suddenly felt more manageable. 

It made sense and it was acceptance.

Art by a wonderful artist, Defective Barbie. You can see more of their beautiful work here: https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/defective-barbie