Zozo's

I had a dream where my mother took me by the hair and dragged me around the house. And I saw myself dragging my daughter around the house by her hair. I had a dream where I killed my mother. And I saw my daughter beating me to death. I had a dream of my mother cursing me for life. And I saw my daughter being spat on by me. That’s not my mother. That’s not me. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop— STOP. STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP. NO! STOP! STOP IT! Please... no more... I ran to my mother and cried in her arms, as she caressed my crusted, tangled hair. And slowly, I began to fall asleep. My eyes grew heavy. And I finally began to rest— for now.

I sat inside the church’s pews. My hand on the Bible As I listened to its verses. The pastor spoke of God’s love And the infinity of souls. The air felt clean, Serene, Holy, And pure— Filled with the words of love Spoken through the pastor’s tongue. And then, My hands began to shake. My heart beat faster. My eyes hurt. My brain hurt. Every bone in my body began to hurt. I looked at the people beside me— And I saw their faces slowly being transformed Into staring demons. Doing nothing. Saying nothing. Just staring, Staring, And staring. The pastor’s words became a ringing voice. The church became a prison That held me abound. I scrambled for my hands. I scrambled for my mind. I scrambled for myself. As I forced myself to crawl out slowly. And yet, as I crawled, The stares, The words, The environment— Cursed me, Condemned me, And hurt me. I felt a stab in my chest, Yet no blood was felt. I felt a stab in my legs, Yet my legs still moved. I felt ...

I cried myself to sleep again As I looked at the person in the mirror— What I could have been If I didn’t have this illness, If I didn’t have this “person” define me. I know it is untrue. I know it is unjust. Yet, I can’t stop it. I am aware of the monsters inside my head. I talk to them daily. I care for them. I feed them. But they never wanted to leave. I pray to God as I lay my knees— To take away the pain, To take away the sorrow. But I still cannot let them die. Perhaps, I don’t want to let them die. I look on as I lose what I love. I look on as I abandon what I cherish. And then, I cocooned myself into a rotten, filthy insect— As I sleep for centuries and millennia. I pray to wake up to a better tomorrow, Where the demons finally agreed To leave my soul. And that is when I will truly rest— And be happy.

I catch it like a dopamine— The heartache, The sadness, The confusion. I catch it like a dopamine. Addicted to it, Laughing to it, As I heed to it. I catch it like a dopamine— Moping in my bed, Cooked up on meds. I still catch it like a dopamine. I sit at my desk As I struggle to type the words— Dread and uneasiness Etched into me. I still manage to catch it Like a dopamine. I fill my days With empty eyes, Empty words, Empty mind. I’m tired Of catching the dopamine. I fill my stomach With hatred, Anger, Shame, Grief— And I still manage to run after the dopamine. As I let myself be killed Over and over By the demons, I still have to take the dopamine. It keeps me sane. It keeps me still. I have to take the dopamine. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I take it And prepare to die— As days go by.