Just another Friday Night

I want to scream.

But my lips are glued together. My lungs are holding in-- but I don't know how much longer.

I want to destroy.

But my hands are drawn in string. My arms are belted to weights welded with whatever shit comes out of your mouth.

I want to cry.

But my eyes are dry from the salt that you left on my brow. The water is sucked out from underneath my fingernails and slipping through slices in my skin.

I want to hate.

But I'm held back by what may come to be whatever this bullshit may feed me in my sleep. And I can't sleep too long for not to awaken what other nightmares seem to creep these halls at night.

Sing it to me. Let me scream it in your ear. Let me bite and bite and bite my lower lip till it falls off and I give you this constantly flipped grin-- the grin I meant to give to you in the first place. Because you can't help me, only this addiction can. Let me indulge in what senses are left and which portions of my brain still believe in what my soul may be like. Fight these urges to run back, but slow me down because I can't lose to your demands--demanding me to demand these demands that throw these demons around these crooked corners because you can't help me. Let me slip into a chair made of arms; let the arms draw me closer as I breathe so that every breath gets harder. Let it be cold because I want to pretend to breathe smoke.

Welcome home.