A Conversation With My Body Poem by Jay Roberts

A slight, wispy cough whispers,
'You've stopped caring, old boy, ''
The blood seeps from the blisters,
'It's your own body you destroy, ''

The marks stretched upon my skin,
'I'm hurting, I'm bulging, won't fit, ''
Tobacco stains etched therein,
‘'I thought you were gonna quit? ''

Pains here, pains there,
‘'Shall we rest in the bower? ''
Dirty feet, greasy hair,
‘'Please, o' please, shower''

See, depression is my only excuse,
For hanging my body without a noose