been days

been days,
I been here,
been weeks,
but not months.
Doctor's trying to dose me
up and I don't 'preciate
that.
Like he should understand,
that maybe I need more time,
or just a threat of
more dosing.
Well, he doubled up anyway,
but he's a pill pusher,
no time to sit and talk
and ob-ser-vate.
Gotta pull myself up
and out of this place,
squeezing myself out
of the hole.
I'm half out, you know, but
I'm stuck at the waist.
Pushing myself up with my hands
and I'd kick with my legs,
only hole's all filled with dirt now.
Not much of a hole anymore.
Maybe the bottom will drop
out again, but I doubt it.
Took me a long holiday from
responsibilities.
Took me a long holiday from
people.
That's the privilege of
being a little sick sometimes.
You get a respite,
though it doesn't quite feel like
that.
In fact, just getting out of bed
feels like a chore.
Not screaming is the real chore.
All I want to do is scream so loud
those days and
scream and scream and scream
until my voice breaks,
until I pass out.
That's pain, alright, that mental
anguish.
But he's so gone and I think
I started to accept that
over is over is over.
So those days in the hole
are gone now
and I'm mobile in person,
mentally partaway there.

Everyone has
to leave that
darkness sometime.