I saw two feet sticking up from behind a car...
As I walked down Clinton ave.
The newspaper dispenser was knocked over
Me and a few other passerbys
Walked over to assist this disheveled lady.
She was wearing socks with her slippers
And was stuffed into a pair of skinny jeans,
That frankly were way too small because
her Buttcrack was hanging out.
She didn't seem to mind though.
As we helped her up,
I got a big whiff of her breath...
Straight nasty, rotting liquor.
The one guy asked what I thought was wrong with
And I just said plainly- she's wasted.
And off she went stumbling to who knows where
Or why...and there was no sense talking to her...
She wouldn't have heard me.
It brought up a memory of mine when I had my most
Recent suicide attempt.
I overdosed on a cocktail of Psych Meds, xanax, clonopine
And Muscle relaxers.
Then I attempted to walk to city from the suburbs to buy
Crack to finish it off.
I remember staggering and falling down
And people staring at me with that disgusted look.
It was winter, so all my clothes and purse was soaked
From the snow.
I don't know how I ended up in city, but I did, with crack...
God only knows.
The next thing I remember is waking up in hospital with
Tubes in me and a painful catheter that I tried ripping out.
The doctors looked over me, perplexed...
'It's a miracle Ur alive.'
A good friend from childhood and her mom came to tell
Me that God still loves me.
'God doesn't exist!
And if he does, then I hate him!!!!!'
They just gave me that sympathetic look
I was moved from psychiatric intensive care unit
To the upstairs residential r-wing
Where I would have plenty of time to talk with the
Demons that taunted me.