Stream of Conscious Anxiety

A shower lasting so long
tap turned to hot but water running cold
sitting under the stream
staring at the now lavender and lilac
scars on cream skin.

Kill for a smoke,
kill for no more anxiety,
kill for the depression to fuck off,
death for a second without not living,
nasty bit of bitter realization -
knowing that medication keeps me alive,
while wishing that medication wasn't needed
to keep me
alive.

Am I pulling away from family? From friends?
Are they pulling away from me?
Am I rebounding? Falling back? Spiraling out of
control?
Almost six weeks since going into a mental institution,
Just after six weeks since I

Cut my skin, caused red to gather,
liquid on top of white thigh skin,
staring at the cuts, the blade,
finding a second of peace,
finding a lifetime of questions in return,
finding I wanted to live so lets not cut any deeper,
finding I needed help, needed therapy, needed to
not be there,

Needed to be here.
Needing to be here, home.
Needing to be wanted by others, by friends, by family,
by myself.
Needed and needing
Wanted and wanting
Killed and killing
Craved and craving
Felt and feeling,

For others,
For me,
for me,
for
me.