dead bird.

witty retorts come out of my mouth but the emptiness is unavoidable
the rotting brain fused with the pavement from the pressure of feet and tires
stays no matter how long ago the minimum wage worker scrapped it off

the unavoidable consequences are upon us and i want to know
if death is part of this cycle
im not taking my pills anymore.

it seems like everyone is leaving
and not paying attention
i cry out but no one gives a fuck.

drunk her says i talk too much so i back off but its hard
sober him doesnt respond when i tell him i miss him
unregulated me doesnt go to therapy because nothing she can say will ease the pain.

ive gained back weight
probably because im so fucking terrible
and deserve to be an ugly husk of a soul.

lately i wish i could fly away
but with these wings clipped
i doubt i could even soar for an inch after jumping out of my 12th floor room.

damn i bet people would be sad
but i wouldnt care because its not for them
they dont have to be me.

i need to take my pills again.
im should go back to my room and take them.
but what if i break the seal and soar?