Lamenting

“For some people having a label is better. It can confer a sense of hope and direction”.

Yet, do they know this might lead to a clozapine injection?

Risperdal or fluoxetine, you choose…

Or will I choose a quick fix like booze?

Glancing up at the charcoaled lamp post, 

I believe to be an elephantine, yet invisible ghost.

Is she talking to me again on my journey home? 

Diagnosing me with death syndrome?

Yes.

I’m a mess. 

Obsess. 

Wasabi pea?

No, not for me.

Another tea?

No, let me hide in my soul’s debris. 

How about lunch Rhi?

‘How can I flee and be free?’

^Did I just say ‘free’?

How ironically ghastly!

The other day at work I heard:

“You don’t eat much do you?”

Whilst other anorexics were being referred,

And I was sat with severe déjà vu-

She is me, and needs to pursue-

A life, 

A lie,

A falsely eaten mince-pie. 

“NO, I don’t”, I said-

She eating rye bread said:

“Why?”

I said “Goodbye”

And left- 

Thinking: what is wrong with my mindset?

Marlborough and Cotswold drown me in sweat-

And through the night my dreams fret-

About a potential future that one day I hope to forget. 

A bone disease, 

And No children-

Are the prospects now, nine years on-

I feel internally gone.

Knock knock Rhi?

“What?” I say,

“Do you know how much you weigh?”

“Yes” I say,

“Then obey”…

“OK” I say…

Dreading that one day…..

This voice will fly me away.

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