too late
to be awake
without the dull
of a drink. but
the bottles clink
and clank,
when i ask them to play.

At this moment, I am wedged between my tonsils.

Stuck, yet scrambling to stay still
                    (I am afraid to make a noise.)
Beneath me: there is nothing but an empty stomach,
                behind me: a neck which wears its weakness in its cracking
                        and before me: a tongue trapped in a clammy cage
                                    by a brain blanketed in discomfort.

creaking noises in the ceiling.
i'm disgusted by myself.
lose-lose-lose-lose situations.
the time-the altitude-the air differences.
nothing works out. everything ends. and badly.

i am a million different people. one for every second,
i've ever had a conscious thought. for every second
i've ever been aware of my own existence.
and there is no person that i should be striving towards.
because the moment i reach her, and obtain
her brilliant, generous, selfless, people-loving, peace-seeking qualities,
she will be gone.
i must make every step.
         deliberately clambering.
                   deliberately continuing.
i must make every step on a staircase that has no trajectory.
where each step ahead only comes when
          i've reached the next.
and whether it's up or down.
i must keep it. hold it for that moment. and keep moving.

don't touch me.
Don't Touch Me.
DON'T TOUCH ME.

my heart is tired. it murmurs
and growls at any threat
of emotion too great.