Tramadol

Here's an ode to the things we can't control,

how they take hold of us

like fuel to our lust,

gasoline in our guts,

touch a spark and let the flames grow

If I tried to describe it, would you understand

or would you feign sympathy and wait for it to pass

I never asked for this, maybe its what I deserve

Too weak to control it, left only to purge

You never saw its true face,

so you couldn't see the fatigue

not so much that I needed sleep

just how some things make you weak

so you don't notice the blood until the knife is twisting

But I recall, in the emergency room

with the curtains pulled,

how you said you knew, but you stopped.

And I don't need an answer for why

I guess you learned not to pry,

my pain taught you to cut yourself off.

But I can't, and it hurts

First its clear, still cold in my throat, then my lips

then its black, like spitting up smoke from the fires in my lungs

then it comes, and its thick and its red and it comes and doesn't stop

my insides all cut up, bleeding out

Thats how it feels, thats what its like to give up.

And I've been giving up

Its like I'm hardly alive

Trudging through nothing to the other side.

There's no point; I'm sick of trying.