A Bruised Mind

Procrastination

Someone save me from this hell I find myself in.
I sit here with nothing accomplished,
Just texting people to see how they’ve been.

I don’t care too much about them, really.
They’re always talking about the years I missed.
I say it’s been too long, not long enough, actually.

I sit here calling this procrastination,
But the accuracy is that of an analysis unfinished,
I am sinking into what I think is depression.

From every corner of life, I meet anxiety,
Concerns of survival surrounding, this is the gist,
My only relief derives from impropriety.

No One

No one will save you from this hole.
You’re a lazy fuck,
As useless as that hereditary mole
That sits above your ass.

No one fancies you, you’re irritating.
You’re an utter flaw as you fuck,
A shithead deserving a beating.
Any decent asshole would take one look and pass.

In My Head

I have so many voices inside my head,
But I’m far from schizophrenic.
They just argue constantly, in waking and in bed,
And there’s another screaming in a manner seeming frantic.

In reality, she simply wants the others lead
To a place of mind where thoughts are basic.
But so many voices, every friend, another voice in my head,
So I hide alone to control the traffic.

Another voice joins immediately when I meet a potential friend,
But when I hide, they unite, convincing me we’re idiotic.
So, loneliness is the state I mostly dread.
Do you think my mind is sick?

Is it my fault? Do I keep the voices fed?
Find friends, avoid friends, it all feels rather manic.
I continue to repeat, “It’s all in my head”
A mind should heed to a childhood villain’s trick.

The line repeats till I wish this voice was dead.
Am I disordered? Is this psychiatric?
No, it’s all in your head.

I am just a lady, walking down the street. I don’t want to be yelled at. My short shorts are not signalling permission for people to cat call.

This n**** was following me down the street back to my hotel. I watched him but paid no other mind since it is Kansas City and people are walking everywhere. I get back to my room and he pushes himself in right behind me. He pulled a knife and locked the door.

“If you scream, I will kill you.” His eyes were bugged, I could see veins popping on his arms. It was obvious he was high as balls. Probably ice, it’s popular in this area. “I’m gonna fuck you” he said as he took off his pants.

I was shocked at first, I’ve just recently become who I am and have never been treated this way. “No, you’re not. You’re gonna turn around and fucking leave and I won’t call the cops.”

“You think I’m scared of the po-po? Get the fuck on that bed.”

I reached for the phone. “Mother fucker, you think I’m stupid?” He knocked it to the ground, threw my purse across the room, my wallet and phone fell out.

“You’re not gonna have me. Get out.” I grabbed his hand with the knife, kneed him in the groin and he fell over. The knife slid under the bed. I kicked him in the side. He grabbed my wallet and phone and opened the door. I tried to grab him. “Give me my phone back, you fucking crack head!!” I yelled as I followed him into the lobby. I stood in front of him, he pushed me, I punched him in the jaw. He didn’t seem phased. I yelled at the front desk lady to call the police. That’s when he ran, with my phone and my wallet.

I didn’t want to talk to the police, I knew what they were gonna think already. Prostitution gone wrong. They made their report and left.