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