My existence flickers,
but only in my own mind-
I seem to be forgetting reality,
and the memories I've captured
are finding ways to escape the jar.
I chase them through the dew-speckled fields,
but they deceive me every time.

And sometimes I stop,
and fling myself to the ground -
roll to face the stars,
and nearly drown in my own tears,
and ask

"Why?"

The excited shout of a “Happy birthday!”
is my reminder that someone still thinks about me.

I’m watching that first big wave looming closer and closer.

A single tear slips down my face.

It’s coming.

I feel the cold waves lapping at my feet,
whispering dark words in the night -
The waves are slowly rising to drown my soul again.
The cold will leave me numb,
and the drowning will leave my lungs on fire.
It won’t be long before I’m sinking again.

The infection is returning,
seeping into my blood—
soon I will be a creature
of shadows and tears.

At first the
blade’s slice is slow,
But I quickly realize
that it’s much better
to make quick strikes
across my skin.
I lose myself
in the sound it makes,
the satisfaction of each
red line.
I suddenly cap the blade
and toss it away
and let the tears roll down my face.
What have I become?
I hate myself.