lockdown mental health

I feel like I'm ripping through the walls of my brain,

With each scratch it pulls every single bitter nerve.

I am yet to know peace with this feeling, I want to burst out of my skin.

To touch a feather would mean to crack its spine

To cuddle a blanket would mean it burning into my chest

All roads are closed and all doors are locked.

I stretch my body into a contoured demonic pose just to feel movement

My lips are dry but my stomach is full, I want to be sick but my throat is filled with cement

Lifting my arms is such a chore, if I was drowning I wouldn't bother waving for help

My hay hair now scratches my shoulders

And my shoulder blades cannot lift that weight, 

I wish i could attach a thread from the ceiling to my chin, just to keep my head from drooping 

My stomach is now a trampoline, that bruises my insides as I walk around

When I see a self help book, my eyes start to burn 

I hug myself but receive little warmth 

My knees go weak when I look out to the morning sun, 

My lungs once filled with acid are punctured and my air flow is restored 

I feel as though my intestines have be pulled out and used as my bondage

To lick the stem of a rose would give me a better pleasured taste 

I want to do so much

But I've lost my body and mind in a year