I cannot breathe by myself anymore.
The cold air reacts as if I am breathing
when, in all reality, I am not.
I want to breathe,
but I also don’t.
I want to live, so badly,
but I also really, really don’t.
The voices left in my head,
they want me to not breathe,
but my lungs make me breathe.
My heart won’t stop beating,
my lungs won’t stop breathing,
my brain won’t stop thinking,
my eyes won’t stop seeing what I
don’t want to see anymore.
I am bloody,
eyes sewn open,
mouth sewn into a smile,
my brain making me see my demons
like something out of a clockwork orange,
my eyes can’t close.
People tell me that I don’t need to suffer,
but I really, really do.
I want to open my veins one more time and
make something out of my blood,
one last act of imagination,
to write “I’m sorry” as I bleed out,
call it an accident, when I know it is
anything but an accident.
I want to kick myself bloody,
I want to open myself up,
I want to be BREATHLESS...