Orwellian (my battle with depression, dysmorphia, anxiety, body image, eating disorder, perfectionism, and the ongoing back-and-forth with oblivion)

may my last words be half-slurred and cathartic
so & so’s favorite blue jeans stained with tear drops & saliva
head cradled in their lap, eyes barely widened
my interventions’ HQ will be besmirched within silence
my shoulder blades girth played role of a harbinger
the bonier they got; the more i wished i was a skeleton
malnourished, malevolent, maladjusted malaise
talking in malformed metaphors to try and explain
that there’s a concession of an all-dead jury saying my name
prosecutor in a straitjacket who thinks I’m insane
reading taped push signs over doors tailored to pull
judges with mallets in the same shape of my skull
my past lives failed me.
pantomime in his glass house flailing
glass eyed, no boundaries. highly contagious
armed & dangerous, with a heart a brain bit
I’ve gotten anxious, cause i’ve told you i’m not anxious
got chasers & glasses for my motherfucking shot-takers
moment of sign language, for up & comers w/ violations
bloodsucker, with lost childhood adult spaces,
that touch base with generational curse placements
misplaced trust havens. mass murdering & love laden
you’ve sputtered out a quarter, and meant less of your words lately
you fucking half-murmured anything worth saying
innate phrasing and a caprice crisis
blinking twice, as a signal to police snipers
every moment spent sober – a cry out for help
tullamore on the shelf
books in the wine cellar
spending most of his life wishing id try better
heart of a lion, mouth of a sinner
there’s something so dystopian about 19.84 oz. of liquor

Published by Cristian Leonardo

Cristian's Cafe. This is my cafe, we have Wi-Fi, but it's not very good. Poetry, Podcasts, Personal Blogging, Research Articles, Open Mic, Comedy, Art. An entire website dedicated to my many forms of expression and happiness.

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