Cockroaches of Doom
TW // depression, self-harm ideation
my room is bathed in midday light
so bright the heat seeps through
the window, sinking into my pillows
but in my mind — in there, it’s dark
and damp, slogging through mud
slipping and sliding and picking
myself back up only to crash
again face-first into the muck.
nothing fixes me, nothing heals
my fractured mind, nothing
brings joy that lasts more than
the splittest of seconds. Not writing
nor reading, not my pink hair nor
my sweet cat, not friends nor even
plotting the downfall of those i hate.
bile burns the back of my throat.
is this the end?
in my dreams i plucked the blades
from their casings, watched the blood
trickle down my arm. in my dreams
it cures me. instead darkness
envelops me. i am ravaged
by these thoughts, they skitter
across my brain and heart
like cockroaches of doom
and i don’t know - i don’t know-
i fucking don’t know how to cope.
Poem by Karis Rogerson
May 11, 2021