But the lows are so extreme
That the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can’t move
Awake, but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs
I know I can’t breathe
And I hope someone will save me this time
And your mother’s still calling you insane and high
Swearing it’s different this time
And you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
And that God never blessed her insides
Then you hang up the phone
And feel badly for upsetting things
Crawl back into bed to dream of a time
When your heart was open wide
