Pain Quota

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People tell me things and I don’t always know what to do
What do you do when you’re friend tells you he wants to stop breathing?
Ask him why? Beg him to continue?
What do you do when you’re friend tells you she wants to stop eating?
Ask her why? Beg her to continue?
I don’t know what it is that makes people tell me things, what it is that makes them confer in me. Maybe I’m easy to talk to. Maybe I’m just there at the right time.
But I have all of this pain. Everyone else’s pain. And there’s no more room for it anymore. I have pain of my own. Where is that supposed to go?

Sometimes I hold so much that I need somewhere to put it all. It moves from one part of my body to the next. Filling me up.
From my heart to my lungs. I can’t breath.
From my lungs to my throat.
From my throat to my mouth, my nose, my eyes.
Pain. It’s. It’s just. Everywhere.
It curls.
It rattles.
It twists.
And I still want it. My body is full. But I want to take all the pain and hold it.
Fill me up.
I really do wish.
I wish I could hold it for you.
Because as much as it eats away. As much as it curls and rattles and twists.
Better me than you.

I want to run to his house and sit with him all night to make sure he keeps breathing.
I want to make his pain go away. Suck it out. His pain. My pain.
I want to run to her house and sit with her to make sure she doesn’t make herself throw up. Her pain. My pain.

People tell me things and I don’t always know what to do.
Small secrets, small truths, small evils that fill me up.

Curl rattle twist.





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