I don't wish I was dying,
But sometimes I think what if I was?
I guess it's a craving for that feeling of fragility
Of suspension
Perhaps I want to see more clearly,
Through the fog of everyday messes
Perhaps I want to step out of the anger I'm harboring,
Remove the toxicity it breeds

To think of 'what would I feel like if I knew I was dying',
Is not enough as if you actually were,
If you were handed the death sentence,
Only so much time before the cancer eats all your cells for example,
You'd live in a different way,
You'd be lighter,
Sensitive,
Aware
Scared too,

I want to know what it feels like to be free of pain
I want to believe in joy

I’m submerged in a secret heart
it’s dark
but I don’t need to see
it’s warm
with invisible fire
it’s soft and dreamy and safe
I would like to stay

gold and yellow yolk leaks
as the shells, brown fragments of armour
tumble into the clear lake

so it must be morning
though the sun sets as we confess resurfacing memories
that break in front of us
like eggs at breakfast

I break my own heart with hope
that it mends stronger,
and that others reach out to help.

i cling to false independence,
and bitterly bite back blood and anger,
sadness and complacence.

i create a fortress in my mind,
constructed, brick by brick,
to shield me and complain
when no one finds their way inside.

i'm not sure what i hate more-- everyone else?
or me.