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—?
if nothing good ever comes out of the life i live, that will be okay.
this wound ive given myself is so deep it’ll never heal, at this point.
all the bandages you can give me, offer me
fall into the wound. consumption.
it’s between God and i.
if there is one.
heal me
love me
heal me
love me
heal me
love me
heal me
love
teach me how to be who i’m supposed to be
because,
childishly, i cannot be ‘myself ’
childishly, i cannot seem to heal myself
rubbing alcohol, special prescriptions, theory
where am i
how predators kill their prey is the way it feels to take a deep breath
‘and remember, none of this is real’
how we believe the lies of the kangaroo is how it is to exist in my mind
disappointment until suddenly im dead
love me
love me
love me
because,
childishly, i run in circles
childishly, i just want to feel loved
childishly, i still tell myself the only way to achieve it
is unsheathing the kitchen knives
& plunging them directly into poison
& then directly back where it all began
i wake up and i don’t even know what happened
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