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I Want You To Write A Poem Off-the-cuff Right Here Right Now

I told you that you'd come to,
It would be easy to get through, but
You told me when I left you, that with me gone, you'd be dead

How accurate, it's shocking
Now that we're no longer talking
I feel a ghost beside me when I lie in our old bed.

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Poet626 · 36-40, M

"Ripping zipties off of wrists tied to restrain the pain caused by the riptides/swirling in my sick mind, brain bathed in Strychnine, as the vortex in my cortex boils over inside. Adrenaline like I'm diving off a cliff side, a gentleman who'd wear a suit no parachute then realize I can't fly. I fight a white knuckle struggle gripping graphite, dripping ash lines on paper potent as vapor from a hash pipe."