Degeneration
I am the skittish creature
with a dumpster in its brain
I make quirky chirps,
buzzes and whistles
My entire body swells and shakes
from the garbage in my mind
They like to mock me
because I'm scared of things that aren't real
My thoughts and my dreams
are undigested,
unholy and rotten
I am the lowly creature
with something wrong in its brain
I make choking gasps,
coughs and whimpers
The infected wounds I've collected overflow
with chewed up bubblegum,
and my nose drips greasy paper bags
I leak all the memories kept away from me
My thoughts and my dreams
are undigested,
unholy and rotten
wicked and disgusting
to be forgotten
And in my brain, that's how they'll always remain,
unless I am able to build up the courage
to cut my head open
Notes: I wrote the original version of this poem when I was in high school. it was supposed to be about my "psychosis" but upon revisiting it, I know that there aren't any hard lines between any of the diagnostic labels I've been given, so I leaned into expanding it.