Vestibule
I know I will not commit suicide
because the world all wants me to die and
I hate the world more than it could
ever make me suffer
Since I am alone in this room now
I know that there are insects here
in my peripheral like some
echoes of my movement
among the piles of exoskeleton
I cannot see the page in front of me at 4am because
my body keeps smoldering
where the joints of my wrists
and fingers
wear themselves open
I will commit suicide
because
I can't imagine growing old
in that my presence should become more
obscene and intolerable
each year until this course will run me
against the trajectory of machines
In having decided to be killed
I become a collaborator
I might only drink alcohol now to eradicate myself
I usually smoke in my reflection while I smoke
and the time of night crawls around me
it's insignificant to sleep
three hours because inconvenience and
crumbling
are only my usual dimensions
I'm never angry enough to exist
I'm never worth my weight in flesh
My earliest continuity began when I was
twenty three and now I'm twenty six
I don't know how to talk to you anymore
I keep getting locked in my room until it gets
filled with smoke and then I
focus on dying until
I can't think well and
the book falls out of my hands
so I scratch around the dark to sleep
I'm looking for a way out
I know that's faulty so I'm looking for a
different way out
I wasn't born to survive and I know that
I wasn't born
I only washed up onto this shore
I don't know where anyone is anymore
I'm trying to make sense with dissociation because
the literal is only stale air
I know exactly how it feels to kill someone
because I already lived through this
life in my dreams
The worst of it is that I know who I am
Obscura
Something good exists
And I don't know where I am
Still
Swimming in the motion
Falling sick against the wind
And something real exists
I can feel nothing with my hands
I can cut nothing into pieces
Thinking about being alive
The earth is warm if I can touch it
And concrete spreads across the world
My hands are filled with eggshell
My head is full of sand
I can't remember waking up today
I can't be comfortable getting attached to life
Which side of the air is this?
I can reach out my hand into night
I can throw bottles against the world
Until they speak to me
Breaking little bodies against the surface
Echo-locative distress
My hurt is a signal out from being
Wandering
I wanted to go wander in the night forever
I wanted to die
I don't know how you find the desire
To wake as yourself in the morning
It doesn't connect
I touch my fingers to the surface of water
I press and press against
I can smell the good air exists, still
The flash of your eyes in the dark
Irresponsibility
I feel inclined to
Clean up my blood off the floor
When I've been cut
Or beaten
And I want to apologize
To everyone
For making them see
The insides fallen everywhere
I let the smell reach them
The raw, metallic air of my
Irresponsibility
Knowing
I should have put it away
I should have made you laugh instead
And kept the blood in
Until you can't see me
I'm sorry to be hurt in public
I know that it makes you uncertain
Seeing me injured
So I'd rather abstract myself
To be disassembled later
Elsewhere
To walk and smoke a cigarette
To somewhere I'm nothing
To cry and to break along my frail lines
That I see in destruction
And smoke another walking
To let me cry
Hidden
To fall apart in private
Walking
Under the world
I shouldn't involve you
To make you uncomfortable
Watching me fall
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