I’m not okay,
Not today.
Neither reason Nor rhyme.
No comfort this time.

She never cared.
Told me “Forever”
And threw me aside.
I still care.
That’s a fact I can’t hide.

You think I’m crazy, don’t you?
This thing you call “Psychosis”
Is not the diagnosis.

It’s a symptom.

A symptom of God’s most grand joke.
Love, affection, attraction, lust.
In the end they all go up in smoke.

On the point of my current state,
You’re the cause.
You’re the one I should hate.

So why do I shatter,
When I see your smile?
Why does my heart leap,
Just to hit the ground in pieces,
With that tremendous clatter?

You leave me to collect the puzzle,
A jigsaw worthy of the brightest mind.
Although, when almost solved,
It just takes another tumble.

So with the shards of my heart in my arms,
I watch you go.

Again.

Is this it?
Is this the end?
Is it my choice to make?

I don’t even know
If that is what I want.

I think I should sleep on it.
But how do I sleep with so much going on in my head?
It feels like by the next time I can finally sleep, I’ll be dead.

Regardless.

I’ll just rest my head.
Eyes closed, I still see red.

At this point, it’s obvious.
My head can’t handle this mess.

Time for a chemical aid.
One to put to bed a head full of hate.

The bottle open,
A pungent odor exudes.
If I down the whole vessel,
Will I be at the end?
It seems a way to go,
But might it be too crude?
A repeat of my last try,
Could I have become immune?

A snap decision was made.
The whole bottle gone,
I started to fade.

I sit here now,
Enjoying the smell of my own sweat.
After my passing, which ones will care?
Who will fret?

Even further I wonder.
What will be my swan song?
Will it be beautiful, my death knell?
Odds are not, looking at others who fell.

Then again,
Maybe,
It’s time for a lullaby.
Can’t you sing me to sleep,
In these few moments before I die?

The pains of my body are gone.
If I changed my mind now,
I have no doubt that my luck has been overdrawn.

I know where I am, I have been here before.
My mind is in hell,
My body still lies on the floor.

Whether this event has permanency,
I might never be able to see.

Even in this purgatory,
My mind starts to fade.
I wonder if anyone will come to look for me.