On good days they’d trail meekly behind me
as I stride down the street
(almost!) never giving them a second thought.
On bad ones they’d hover around me
mania in their eyes and cruelty in their smiles
and breathe down my neck
I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut but
I can’t get their voices out of my head.
On good days they’re in the breeze
that go through my hair
nothing more than a passing memory
of what I once was.
On bad ones they’re in the hollows of my eyes
that smart with a lack of sleep again
as I stare at the bright lights of cars at an intersection.
Sick. 