"I will lose my grip."

AnneMarie R., age 16. New Jersey.

On Call Nights
Make me lose my mind.
Sleep deprived,
And vomit timed.
Martyr mornings,
For patient primes.
Raw empty stomach,
Churns alcohol grinds.
Nauseous headaches,
Pulse reality’s burn,
As paranoia looms,
Exploiting nervous words.
I will lose my grip,
I have made myself sick.
And as the clinical light sings;
I die.

But hey, at least I went down with you.