to disappear | a something
i hate this body.
how it cages me up, how it houses my insides but does no justice;
traps me in this autonomy i cannot change, i can only loathe.
how empty it is, pumping nothing but blood,
stubborn; unwanting to die.
that after all the destruction i’ve caused it
it still fights to live.
i want to live.
i hate this mind.
how loud it begs to be at night, how much doubt it plants in the places
i intended to grow happiness in instead.
how it conjures more reasons so that i continue to burn bridges,
how it makes me want to die.
i want to die.
i hate this mess of an excuse i call myself:
how can positive pretence pour out from my lips,
when scars hide on my skin,
emptiness filling me up inside?
i am drowning in loneliness and this is not voluntarily.
loneliness isn’t ‘alone’ but instead an asylum i never asked to be in.
i am feigning sanity but holding onto a sliver of whatever’s left —
it’s going to snap soon, i’m sure.
i want to disappear.
and maybe i will, sometime very soon.
maybe that’ll put an end to this internal war my mind and body rage in.
maybe in lifelessness they’ll become one,
for once, for once.
and even after i die,
my hair and my fingernails will continue to grow —
as though yearning for another chance; dig me out of this early grave,
dig me out of my current despair,
i don’t want to die, i just don’t want to be here;
in this body,
with this mind,
i just want to disappear.