Paranoid Patty: Decent

That’ll be £5.50 for the underground,
Just to come face to face with another educator,
As they deconstruct the many ways you fucked it this time.
Face sunk into your own scarf, revelling in your stench,
Clutching your Yabba-Fro-Chino, passing Euston.
Tastes like shit, makes your plasma pass at a snail’s rate,
Eons better than pushing trash down to avoid hunger.
Already feels like your insides are gonna give out.
Heart attack on the Hammersmith line, no hope there,
They’d sooner kick your corpse on the tracks to make it home.

The world around you is coming apart,
And that’s to say nothing of the world inside.
Millions of miles before anyone knows your name,
Even then it’s usually in infamy.
Ping! From your Facebook;
“Why can’t you come to this party you can’t afford?”
Ping! From your inbox;
“Why can’t you come home for xmas?
Fake a smile and share some crap food
With the very people who left the scars on your mind?”
She looks down, traces the cuts on her hands,
She wasn’t even sad when she made them last night.
She just wanted to get the same reaction from the outside,
As they’d give if they could see her insides.
The sigh from the bus driver, the looks from her classmates,
From being scared, broken and ruined.

She covers her mock exam results when she gets them.
She doesn’t wanna know if she’s fucked it all again.
She doesn’t wanna know if her momma were right.
She doesn’t wanna know if the voice in her head called it.
Little trip past the corner shop on her way home,
Maybe a little wine to shred time off this episode.
Gets to her room, collapsed in front of the screen.
She’s crying for help but she doesn’t know what she wants,
Cos she doesn’t believe when her friends say they miss her,
Cos she doesn’t believe it when her boy says he loves her.
What Sasquatch or deity is she looking for?
What they gotta say to make it all go away?
Her skin sags like it’s not connected to her body anymore,
Her psyche feels like 5 years out of sync.
Just reminds her she’s got no control of her body.
Anything she could be proud of is pouring from her fingers;
She can’t write any lines no more,
She can’t fuck to save her life no more,
And everytime she vocalises that, she makes someone cry.
So sit tight, mouth shut, as it all melts away.
Scratch your scalp as your hair’s coming out,
Readjust your eye as it’s falling from your sockets.
Your hearts beating extra drums out of sync,
Bed sheets ruined, as your life seeps out of your pores.
Finish the wine, try and lose consciousness for tonight,
Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.

That’s what you said last night.

Sebastian Noël

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