“A monster’s lullaby,” no.111

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When I come out of it

My hands are shaking

And my arms feel like dead weight.

My mind is asleep.

I can’t quite think straight.

When I come out of it

I know that my  monsters have finally left

To briefly rest.

Oh, how I wish I too could fall into bed.

I glance at the mirror,

It’s waiting to watch me paint on my face

like I do every…..

oh hell what am I saying?

Like I use to do every day.

 

Mostly I only sit and look.

I think

Who the hell is that?

Hair’s a mess,

knotted and tangled around itself,

Bloodshot eyes

with dark circles to match.

 

Mostly I only sit and look and sarcastically say,

 “girl, you’re a winner today.”

I should probably scrub my face.

I’ll watch as my dirty chaos spins rapidly down the drain.

 

How long has it been since I’ve truly slept, anyways?

 

When I come out of it

I am free.

But my limbs still hold the shackles.

 Dangling from my arms

and my ankles,

They cause pain.

They get in the way.

But I’m so used to it.

I just block it out and say,

I’ll be fine despite these damned shackles.

 

I feel so heavy,

Disgustingly heavy.

But my demons, they say that I’m free.

Ha.

What is free?

My demons are letting me go for awhile.

But the key to these restraints?

Gone.

They swallowed it with no complaint.

 

I belong to them.

I know my place.

 

When I come out of it,

I can go out,

I can try to enjoy this world.

I can walk among the living.

Some days

I resemble a zombie walking through the crowds.

Other days,

When I come out of it,

I’m happier,

I’m lively.

Smiling, laughing

with my head in the clouds.

 

But the truth still comes out.

 

I never fail to see the truth.

 

I see the damage.

I see what these monsters have done.

I’m terrified as I untangle my thoughts

Caught in the web this black widow has spun.

 

I know that this should no longer be my present.

I must move on from the past.

Protect my future.

Not let this go on forever.

 

“Don’t let them take control.”

I’ll remind myself of this every day.

And every day those demons will fight me.

 

Some days they torture me.

Taking my thoughts,

throwing them into a blender

for another binge and bender

of alcoholic shots filled to the brim

with emotional outbursts

and mental breakdowns.

It’s clear that I entertain them.

 

Those demons put up a good fight, alright.

 

But I’ve got what it takes to fight harder.

 

I know that I am stronger.

 

I will fight harder.

 

When I finally come out of it

My eyes try to focus in

on my surroundings.

 

This time there’s broken glass,

A hole in the wall.

There’s a bruise on my knuckles…

That’s new.

There are more scratches on my arms…

“Damnit!” I think,

“I promised I wouldn’t self harm.”

But I did.

 

I see the truth

And I do wonder

How did I let it get this bad?

 

When I come out of it

I pick myself up,

grab the broom;

sweep away the debris.

 

I’m so tired of my demons’ sick games.

 

I feel ashamed.

 

But I shouldn’t.

I can’t.

 

I must learn to survive.

 

“Shit happens.”

I tell myself that every day.

 

My demons come quietly in the night

And they sneak around in the light.

They can find me

every hour

of every day.

Because for all twenty four hours

they are lurking in the shadows of my brain.

 

“Note to self: sweep those cob webs away

when you come out of it.”

Okay.

 

I promise I will work harder, I will fight.

I’ll look for the light.

 

But for a moment

Let me sit in the darkness.

Let me sing my demons to sleep.

And then we’ll get on with this shit.

 

Written at 1:11 pm October 6, 2019

Revised March 3, 2020

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