The Gun In My Mind

sometimes my words aren’t as beautiful as usual sometimes my thoughts cannot be gathered and the words violently crash onto the page instead of flowing out of my pen and sometimes i have nothing to write about other than the emptiness that has eaten away at me, leaving me numb some days i am much messier than usual my hands won’t stop shaking as my mind is stuck in outer space and Saturn’s ring is locked around my head, despite the amount of Advil i take finally i pull myself out of it and my feet are nailed to the floorboards in my room i’m stuck to the ground and can’t escape no matter how hard i try even if i did escape i wouldn’t stop bleeding. as i stand frozen i look at what i have become, i run my eyes over my transparent skin and wonder when a gun replaced my brain since the only thing my brain can process is how easy it would be to stop breathing because breathing isn’t as simple as it once was, i even forget to breathe sometimes i have to force the air out of me as a ton of dirt sits on my chests and pushes me further and further into my grave but then the gun in my head reminds me i’m not screwed up enough to actually make use of it, so i continue to breathe. m.r.