My insides are flipped out. I can see them all over my shirt. A slimy lung. Tiny finger bones crushed into a chest pocket. Veins hanging from the collar. Pick yourself up, man. Get yourself together.
How can I cope? Where can I go? Is this still a holiday hangover or is this the new reality? No, it can’t be. I can’t go through that again. Someone get me out of here. I need help and therapy isn’t enough. No one seems to know what to do with this. Adult child of parental alienation.
A lower digestive system flushed down the drain.