Weekends With My Family

Slam poetry written in my senior year. The first piece I wrote, and delivered in front of a class of about ~25 students.

 

Weekends With My Family

Saturday morning and I lie in bed
completely still to the world around me.

Eyes unfocused to see a white ceiling
while voices surround me with noises.

I listlessly lie on off-white sheets and pillows.

Son retreats back into his covers,
skies turn back to gray colors,
fade back to black as time turns back again.

I lie in bed.

Sunday morning,
and rivulets of filth stream down abused skin

and still I lie still
face-down in stained sheets
midst my still form
are the sounds of lips:
opening, closing,
open, closed,
forcing lungs
to convert oxygen to carbon dioxide,
providing air to a body that doesn’t want to

breathe
in
my
grief,

I laid on those sodden sheets
with my ruined mind,

and as hours tick by I find
my parents are inclined to be unkind.

And when I pick myself up I feel
ashamed and dirty.

I’m ruined.

Shower cleans
dust, saliva, tears, and snot off me,

but it won’t wash or clean my mind…
just my body.

A kitchen knife runs across wet skin,
deprives me of the pain running through my mind.
I so desperately want to believe I’m alive,
but unless I bleed, nothing feels right.

Music in my headphones as

I listlessly lie on off-white sheets and pillows.

Eyes unfocused to see a white ceiling
while noises become voices in my head.

I know I’m dead and yet…

I’m not.

Fade back to black as time turns back again.

I lie in bed.

Monday morning,
the song repeats.

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