The first time you think about suicide,
It’s like peeping around the corner
Of some place forbidden.
The second time you think about suicide,
Ordinary objects attract a gleam,
Unnoticed once before.
The third time you think about suicide,
The panic drops like a hailstorm.
The fourth time you
A quick note
This poem is part of a small series I wrote while navigating the NYC subway system.
not the place for it came about after depression unexpectedly kicked me to the gutter during my time in a city I'd always dreamed of living in. It's my first attempt at poetry and only came about as a result of a microdosing experiment I'd undertaken in an attempt to overcome what I was going through.
This experience of writing out the muck while hurtling through the darkness in an ageing metal snake, while under the influence of psilocybe cubensis helped me claw a way out of the despair in a way traditional therapy was never able to.
Anyway. Just thought you should know that.