new normal

It always starts out normal,
I never know when they will be back.
Nothing in particular has to trigger me
and I can be having the best day I've had in 3 weeks
but the thoughts will be back,
oh, they will be back.
You see, I started playing a dangerous game
and I began to keep the score permanently engraved
on my wrists, hips, and thighs.
My habit is self-destruction.
because the liquor lights a fire inside my chest
and now all that remains is a pile of ashes;
a charred reminder of how bad I messed up.
The drugs are fun while the highs last
because I become numb and everything is funny
but when the high drifts off and the smoke clears
I am left with an abyssal low
that I have managed to nose dive into
and with each shot I take, and with each hit on the metal bowl,
I dive a little bit deeper, and fuck myself up a little bit more.
The thoughts return and I begin to panic,
because who is there to turn to at 3 am on a Tuesday morning?
I can feel my heart thumping in my chest
and my brain feels nonexistent because for once my head is quiet.
I mindlessly stumble to the drawer that holds my box of dirty little secrets.
I sit in the bathroom for a long time holding the sharpness in my hands
I think about how I wish someone would understand
that sometimes it feels like the whole universe is trapped inside of me;
it feels like the sun has made a home in my chest.
Sometimes I feel like it would be easier to pull out the constellations
through the gashes so I could tie them all up in a nice, tight noose
I could hang myself among the stars.
Nothing ever starts out normal.