Turn it Off
My skin is flaky,
My hands are shaking.
It's right there.
And yet I don't _want _to touch it.
But I'm being screamed at anyway
Like my nervous system will collapse
So I do.
And then I turn the faucet on.
And try to remember what the books told me,
How to distract myself
But I can't.
And I feel like-
_I'm going to die. _
And sometimes,
I wish I could carve out my brain,
Smash it against the wall
Hey, does that count as a lobotomy?
No I don't want to "have fun"
Go in public
Overthink.
I don't want to force my eyes open each night,
Curled up in the corner of my bed-
Because who knows what'll happen it I touch the rest of it.
And I'm cold.
But I'll get sick if I go near my blanket.
I don't want to have fun
I don't want to die
I want my brain to shut up.