I love the days
when there are no thoughts in my head
except real ones like breakfast and music
and what to play with next
What's next to look forward to
Things I can't wait to go through
Wearing something that shows off my ass
Digging the sun, and sleeping in itchy grass

But today, I'm afraid
of getting axed in the head
or loosing an arm or leg
I'm afraid of being dead
or being left over, when everyone else is dead
Thinking, kicking, pounding, biting
Scraping, scratching, clawing, peeling
Layers of things I shouldn't have done and said
Guilty memories, raw self hatred

Why did I say that, back in third grade
to that boy with the scars
I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking right
And when I was eight, I kicked my Dad in the face
when he leaned over to kiss me goodbye
I hurt your feelings, I didn't mean to
I just wasn't thinking right
And Mike Bevis, I was intimidated
I had nothing but respect for you
and I can barely stand the thought of what I said
Just the opposite was true

...Afraid of being axed in the head
Afraid of being dead
Being left over when everyone else is dead...
The simple act of walking down the street
Today, I have to see my feet
so I don't trip and bust my head
on a big fucking lead pipe or something
And then I'll be lying there in the street
in a big pile of my own head meat

I want the real thoughts
of breakfast and music
and what to play with next
and what's next to look forward to
The things I can't wait to go through
And wearing something that shows off my ass
Digging the sun and sleeping in itchy grass

By Deborah Carry-Amland