Deadbeat Brain

He finds you lying there
In the filth,
Your eyes rolled back
Revealing only the white;
Just like that shit
You sniffed
Out the back last night.
He made the lines
And you took it in turns
Like you used to do
With your Playstation
As kids.

He helps you up,
Brushes the gravel
Off your back, wipes
The blood off of your slashed wrists.
Why, why, why?
There's no sign
Of a weapon,
But there is a sign
You are damaged in your mind.

You mumble something
And he mumbles back the words
You need to hear.
The lack of those words
Is the reason
You attempted to jump off
Of the top floor,
Why you ripped
Open your wrists when
Your plan didn't go accordingly
And why you take a line
Or five to emit the swelling
Of your deadbeat brain.