this infection

Nine hours in a crisis room
will fuck a little with your head.
You know you won't be let out soon,
you start to wish that you were dead
and take back everything you said -
"What, kill myself? I've never tried
to hang myself in someone's shed."
I fall as quickly as I fly.

I was admitted. I was doomed
to repeat patterns cast in red.
I cannot take these shifts of mood,
I'd rather take the pain instead.
Admitted once they found a bed
and labeled "failed suicide",
it fills me with a kind of dread.
I fall as quickly as I fly.

Upon release, the trees had bloomed.
In the morning, I was fed
then discharged in the afternoon.
The only thing that I had left
was a sort of small regret
that in the end, I went and lied
and gave a different sobriquet.
I fall as quickly as I fly.

Bandages and tourniquets
are just one way I exorcise
the way I feel. I'm bound in thread.
I fall as quickly as I fly.