So Sick

So sick

So damn sick of
tissue boxes and
Kleenex burns
multiple bags of
soft white paper
balled up with
the glue of
viral snot.
So damn sick of
waking up to
dreams of asphyxiation
only to find
bursting nasal cavities
that refuse
to drain correctly.
So damn sick of
checking for fever
from fear
because it seems
the only thing
that explains these
nightmare dreams.

So sick

So damn sick of
delirious ramblings
minute to minute
accounts of my
half-waking mornings
hoping to
Disney’s rape of
the classic fairy tales
hoping to
Diabetic camp moments
to
parental trauma
to
classical mythology
to
high school hell.
So damn sick of
this hallucinogenic haze
trapping me in the daze
of fragile happy memories
shattered by each
goddamnit that hurt
sneeze.
Clogged nose
explosions
that leave little more
than a sick
slick taste in my mouth,
memories of how
damn sick I am
of this
cubic cell
life.
This
Ivy league bound
4.1 or better
throw your life away
in a JC
get gradded on
that bullshit
“personal statement”
you’ll never send anyway
but first write
expository on
Clash of the Titans
life.
This
Infantile
Oblivious valley girl
Bomb this shit outta them jock
Drained by crack brain
but lets make it legal anyway
lookie me
I’m a stereotype
But wait
You’ll like me if I bend over
because this skirt’s so short
you’ll see my little friend
life.

Why should I
want to be sick
in peace?
Without
too sharp
memories
of old friend’s faces
walking down my halls,
only to stop
turn
and prove they’re just
illusions.
Not the original
free thinking
accepting friends
I made
what seems
so long ago.
Why must I want to be sick
without memories
of expectations
that came back too high?
Why am I stuck
wondering why the fuck
so few have seen Memento
and why most that have
can’t think past
a bottle of wine
a cheep motel room
and Guy Pearce?
Why am I
wondering why
Nobody dyes their hair
unnaturally any more?
Why nobody
reads their poetry
anymore?
Why I
can’t enjoy myself
when I go to dance
with my friends.
Why I
can’t be attracted
to five guys a week
anymore
like everyone else?
Wondering why
I never emailed them back
after I left
Why I know,
I wont
Why it took
running nostrils
cold drugs
and three days
without real sleep
to finally rant all this out
And then really cry
about what I feel
I’ve lost?

I can say now
I’ve never been more
grateful
that CSSSA
finally taught me
how to use a pen.