tripping balls from the hangman’s tree

woke up with acid in the back of my throat

my uvula dancing in the bubbling liquid stress of bad delusions

bad mental health

bad options

spent so many days looking for silver linings i forgot what it means to be me

there are none

if things are looking up

i’m most likely hanging upside down

not blushing

all the blood has rushed to my head

like one of those glass birds with dyed water that seems to peck at the desk

not my desk

no my desk is insomnia

my desk is a splinter grown infected in my thumb from hitchhiking down the road

falling in love with whoever is kind enough to pick me

then being dropped off fifty feet down the road again when they realize they made a huge mistake

an empty state of searching for brighter tomorrows

i don’t have a desk

nor a hope of better anything

just maybe a break from this headache that has settled into sinus cavities and make my jaw hurt like real cavities

woke up early so i could swim in self hatred longer


i was following a trail of chocolates into the woods to hang my head in shame with a licorice whip

but the chocolate was shit

and the whip was serpent

so if you see a shitstained face screaming he’s been poisoned

look away

look away

and if you hear some words that sound like they were strummed off of cupid’s bow

duck and curl into a ball

no salvation comes from that place

just acid in the back of your throat

tying your guts into knots and leaving your mind broken in the aftermath

wishing you were tripping balls from the hangman’s tree

doing soft shoe hovering in mid air for a crowd downtown

i’m not choking to death

my face is always this shade of purple

it brings out my eyes

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