Some day I may stop pretending
to even want a happy ending.

I need to walk more.

The cracks in my feet,
the people I meet,
and the car,
falling back into dust.

The crocodile, left questioning his own tears,
he never saw the malice in his breath,
he sobbed "I haven't eaten for a month now"
as you walked willingly into your death.

Drain out of me
running through the page
a cloudy yellow apathy
with crimson streaks of rage
my doctor thinks a catheter
could help me hold my tongue
but I've swallowed his for years now
and my flow has just begun.

Benevolent miners
crack rubble all day
hands wrapped to the sky
all quietly pray
for a meaningful memory,
some new way to say
they broke up that rock
in a substantial way.

I don't try to be myself
I just am.

Some love
     Some hate
          Some hold
              Some berate

But I don't try to be myself
I just am.

One day I realised,

I was only ever
afraid
of
myself.

It terrified me.