4-point restraints.

whispering like i can't hear,
"he's not complying, 6cc's"
a needle in hand, a poison syringe
(paranoia drives me to the end:
thinking this is it, this is death)

 


 

my thoughts are fickle

Related topics:

do you smell that? its reminiscent

my first inpatient stay

i wanted me first blog entry to be more philosophical...but...right now i'm just fucking pissed off

Piano In The Ward

a found piece of writing from my last stay in the hospital

I am trying to win

I had told a few important people that I might be going away for a while..
Syndicate content