They've Got My Back

An Intervention

My eyes betray me,
leaving me in the dusk.
Only my ears work for me now,
reaching out
for the words tossed at me
through the thick shadows.
Yet, I find myself
doing my best to dodge the pitches,
not wanting to catch these balls.
They are filled with
the worst kind of agony;
the truthful kind.
The sort of sting
that lasts,
as I know they cannot
be ignored,
simply swelling on my skin
until I tend to the wound.
The validity
lights a fire within me,
scorching my innards,
smoking out the falsehood
from my lungs,
so I can no longer
spout the wishes
and dreams
that were lost long ago.

I try to thank you both
for awakening me
from my self-induced fantasy,
but my heart cuts me off,
my veins wrapping
around my windpipe.
For,
though my brain has
written off all hope,
my soul cannot seem
to simply surrender,
raising arms
against logic and reason.
This will be a war
that no one wins,
but it must be fought.


I've tasted this medication,
and my stomach now roils
at the sight of it,
unable to accept
such a putrid pill.
The doctors all insist
it will heal me eventually,
yet the hurt burns away
at my throat
as it slides through me,
slimy, stinging, scorching.
So I crumple up
your prescription slip,
eating it
so it might smolder to nothing
on the way down.


I know it's a lot to ask,
but just promise
that if you find me,
a broken toy strewn on the street,
that you'll pick me up
out of my puddle of dismay
and shove me on my way,
leading me back to the light
you so willingly offer now,
but that I can't seem to accept
just yet.

So we sit in the darkness,
muttering at the shadows,
and wishing beyond belief
for a life worth living.