For Kurt Cobain.
I open my eyes and my mouth to a cheerless narrative;
A stark depiction of what life has become,
Every action pushing towards a common motive
To render this heart of mine numb.
I want to paint it black
Not seek to absorb what it finds itself to lack —
So when the sun pokes through my window
I pull the blinds down low.
I go about the day in a mindless stupor
Here, I break glass; here, blades break skin,
In my mind I am myself an intruder
Betting on a game I can’t possibly win —
So I give up — douse myself in the pot and the pills,
Cut lines on the mirrors, the windowsills.
If I do have a soul, it’s all but lifted
My mind so numb, a boat I no longer row
My body takes the brown sugar thrust in through the piston
And I watch it take control, let go —
An instant of regret vanishes too soon
The high is when I’m at my biggest low.
As the poisonous rapture wears off
I find myself slumping, my head on my knees.
With disdain I look at myself and scoff,
Do nothing but watch my appetite for self-destruction increase —
There is just so much pain in sobriety
Seeking refuge in moonshine becomes a necessity.
Only in the dead of the night do I give in
(To the tears, the emotions, the hopelessness — for I gave up long ago)
And when heavy eyes no longer weep
I dissolve myself into a dreamless sleep —
Tomorrow will be the same.