I'm sick of breathing in the smoke
of my mental illnesses cigerettes
the smell is on my clothes
I'm freezing it's not winter yet
but my fingers and my toes
are shivering beneath these sheets
and I feel so alone
I don't want to die I want to sleep
but no matter how hard I try
I never feel well-rested
I'm weeping in these clothes
the same ones I wore yesterday
but even worse I know
to change or bathe or slow
my hearbeat down to something normal
struggling to breath
but no matter how hard I try I never feel well-rested