Melodrama!

I wrote this a few months ago, when I was all... lonesome, feeling pretty much dead on the inside. I had this perception of myself as a hollow corpse, discarded in a ditch somewhere, dead leaves half obscuring me, and little bugs crawling in and out of me... I felt just absolutely dead, and as every writer knows, nothing inspires you like depression.

Untitled


The compartment is cluttered,
And pretty dirty.
I found a centipede under a towel
Yesterday.
I work and sleep and
Play a game sometimes.

I sleep in the arms of my best friend
I imagine
During hypnotherapy
That I listen to on a tape every night
Before bed, in bed,
Just so I can sleep.

And sometimes at night
I think that I can do something amazing
And fix myself.
But I can't, I always slip.
And in hard times
I remember I can fix myself if I want.
But I never do.

So I see all these
Little examples of true love.
There isn't anyone for me.
I am not healthy or
Pretty enough.
I think I was at one point.
But things have changed.

I lied about some things,
And I fought my whole life
For my whole life.
Just to live.
And found the casualties crying at me
Under my feet.
I love.

I love harder than I can stand.
And he ignores it.
And then he loves me back a little.
I watched a man make it rain
For the woman he loved.
I watched people pretend and
Convince me that love exists.

No one will cover me with roses
No one will watch me sleep
No one will whisper to me in the dark
No one will make it rain for me
No one will fight for me
No one will try to forget me
I just watch them do it for other people.

I reach out
And I do it rarely now
But I do sometimes.
The spaces in between get longer and further apart
Because my hands are always
Pushed away.
Nothing touches them.

Things are better on the outside
Than they've ever been before.
And all I can do is cry so the neighbors
Can't hear.
Because I'm alone
And because at the bottom of
Being alone I decided
I want to be.