Ticking time-bombs wishing we were other peopleMature

“I’m a bomb
of what I do.”
and endangering
staring at pill bottles
scratching sheets
trying to get
as far away from myself
as I can
because I can’t trust myself
Time keeps moving
and I feel
less alive
more numb
and indifferent
only feeling alive
or anything else
when it’s 1am
on a swing set
in the rain
or traipsing around a playground
at 12
or walking across broken bridges
knowing they’re dangerous
only kind of holding on
to the rails
you want to plummet
right into the water
I shouldn’t
only feel alive
when I’m shredding my shoulders
stretching my rib cage
climbing down from rocks
and spray painting cliffs
climbing broken buildings
I shouldn’t
only exist
at 3 am
with drugs in my system
feeling air in my hands
music in my head
driving through places
with one headlight out
or only exist
chasing frogs
and sneaking onto fake boats
or reliving memories
from years ago
with people that are desperate
for the same thing.
I consistently
and fall apart
like this toxic building
that keeps burning
to the ground.
to keep myself together enough
for any kind
of healthy relationship
that when they know
they’ll decide
on the spot
that I’m crazy
or they can’t watch me
laying on the floor
for eight hours
or look at me
when I cling to doorways
and get reckless
to stop myself
from more reckless things
worse reckless things.
Nobody likes
depressed people
depressed time-bombs.
We become
these god damn grenades
pins being pulled constantly
the only way we manage
is when we lock ourselves away
with other grenades
they understand
they know
and they won’t sit there
with hope
and dreams
they wait every storm
every hurricane out
when we don’t always
make it through.
We’re there
when any of us
stop being grenades
we could follow suit
watching someone escape
that explosion
gives us the boost
that we need.
But we’re never quite
all there
for the next explosion
the next earth shattering boom
to take us down
and we don’t know
how long
we can take this.

The End

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