When you start to see the bottom 
Of those leering orange bottles
Threats of existance are especially bleak

Vertigo next to prostration 
Electric synapse undulations 
All the retching is leaving me weak 

Ceaseless verge of trickling tears
Insignificance from past 6 years
Squatting rent free inside the mind

Heart palpitations 
Over social reservations 
Dependence on ties that we bind 

4 weeks of appointment queues 
That the privileged seem to breeze right through
Purgatory becomes home for the rest 

Crutches and abrasions 
The deepest lacerations 
Just as damning in my head as in my chest 

anxietydepressionexistencemental healthpoemshort poem

◄ loose ends


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