(a bastard’s prayer)
Now I drug myself to sleep,
counting lies instead of sheep.
If I die before I wake,
at least I’d catch a goddamn break.
I close my eyes, but not for rest
the dark just knows me fucking best.
It drags the dead back through my head,
lines them up beside my bed.
Bless my meds, and bless the floor,
where I’ve pissed and prayed and begged for more.
More numb, more fog, more time to stall,
before the screams begin to call.
If I should live another night,
don’t tell me that I’ll be alright.
Don’t tuck me in, don’t speak of peace
just help me make the shaking cease.
Amen, or whatever fits.
God stopped showing up for this.
