“I live in a constant state of maybe next week.”
He was talking about cash and change,
money being tight
worrying about what will come.
Will he be able to eat?

But the words I hear speak in different shapes.
Talking of energy and motivation
that does not exist in this stupid body.
The way I say, “Let’s hang out next week.”
To cancel with my best friend.
Hoping for new energy to appear
in the seven days I wait.

One tear rolls on my cheek
and I tell myself to bury these emotions.
Two tears start to roll
and I buy the shovel I need.
Three tears begin to make a stream
and I start to dig the hole, deeper than before.
Four tears and a river is made
but into the hole they start to go.
Five tears and I’ve found the magic way
to divert the river to a ditch, away from my eyes.
Four tears while the river goes back to a stream
and I start to think about gaining control.
Three tears and the stream starts to dry up
like I’ve been forcing my eyes to do.
Two tears and it’s almost gone
dried up and buried.
One tear and I throw away the shovel
as it is not longer needed.
My emotions have been buried again
deeper than before so they can’t find me anymore.

There is nothing everywhere.
Nothing is in the space between somethings.
I stare at nothing.
After pushing feelings down deeper than I have before.
I welcome nothing.
I become nothing.
I am nothing.
So I may as well **** myself.