Over Dramatic

———–

Self medication

And the ability to draw out the damnation

That writhes through every weak joint

In the brain that rattled every bad thought

Through the angry drain

It shakes and shakes until the lumps become small

Until they’re unnoticeable

And fly though blood like hormones

When a whore moans is she telling the truth

That the attachments in her youth and early adulthood

Are sworn to detachment misunderstood

Her empty soul a feather lost

In the windy streets

That carry her through life

An empty beat of conquests that put her mind to rest

Elsewhere she cannot sleep

Like a Mammal that lives off the heat of others

Home is too cold to make a map of other lands

When the heart of those she loves is like pressing her feet into hot sands

Rage is hot

But perhaps not

Rage is freezing, prickly touch

It must be held by wooden men

Who when warmed can’t be bent

But burned, she likes to burn

Her brain is the inside of a fridge

Where everything inside her dies

When the rage brings the temperature down a tinge

The fringe in her brain drives her insane

When the rage comes and flushes her down the drain again

To her lowest hole

She comes out and smiles at the eyes

That always meet her on the other side

The only ‘give and take’ where she’s the prize

She over spends on everything and is the boss until

The money is gone and stuck at her windowsill

Her mother can’t take the constant debt

And the debt in their dynamic is in minus until they’re both dead

A sibling with much to say

Who never saw the thermostat break

In her older sister heart when the

‘Shit went down’

But shit still goes down, is always down now

1 minor thing makes a minus still

One minute I am sky high the next I am paying for my thrill

I wonder if I can overcome another melt down ill

I wonder if my body and my mind can pay the always looming bill

I am spiralling out now

With a jury of family that see every row

As a bid for attention, a wet towel

On their sofa, an unwashed plate

‘She’s fine as when she’s paid, she’s off to see her mates’

‘We sit here at home while you party and we are alone’

My manic highs throw me out like a comet approaching their skies

When I hit home

Less money and more they need loan

They claim I invented the throne

They claim I wished to be vulnerable

Lifeless and a clone

I was once a student, I once had dreams

Before a stranger broke my seems

And drove me away from the uniform success that I cannot remember or even believe

I moved back home, I moved out the house

I attempted again but was full of hate

I loved my drugs and my altered state

I left the country, I became Clean Me

And came back here to them, to She

Work fucked me dry, threw me into the sky

Underpaid or not paid

Debt rise

Rage climbs

I argue every week…get called weak

As my rage lashes out almost every time I speak

They say I play victim every single time

They say I struggle to stay in line

With their plans and their lives

Perhaps I do

But where is mine?

I used to be so much, I used to have a clue

But now all I’m reduced to is a pathetic family view

That is altered by their own experience

Of me as a wretched person

Throwing tantrums and cursing

I am becoming bad again, I am telling myself my “sad story”

When I do that I know it’s because I’m trying to make sense

I wish I would just disappear but it would only be at their expense.

R.M.C

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