Time stands still
So high up
I, too
Stand still

Still, like an old book on a shelf
Having spent years longing for use
Watching the world go by
While I remain unchanged
Glued to this shelf
Immovable
A testament to my patience
Or perhaps my naivety
Naive enough to believe it’ll end
Naive enough to hope

These hands feel nothing
Unfamiliar in nature
Alien
And I
Still book on a shelf
Ragged
Worn
Crumpled in all the wrong places
Tearing at the seams
Crafted from different materials

But built similar
By a familiar something
Close enough to normal
But not normal enough to be close
Close to those who I love
And those who love me

Solitary
Esoteric
Safely tucked away
But forever alone
Forever stuck
Here on this shelf
Where everything changes
But me

I've been thinking about killing myself
It's not that I'm sad or anything
At least, I don't think I am
It's gotten harder to tell the difference these days
The hours grow shorter and shorter and every day seems to abruptly end when I open my eyes
Tell me more about yourself
About your favorite food and the homework you hate
Did you know that, while drawling on, when the light hits your eyes just right, they glimmer?
The water here is strange
Too warm or far too cold
With a weird bitter taste
Weird like the bitter-blue sky that stretches on like it does in movies
The kind of movies that you watch when you're on the road that you can never quite remember

I've been thinking of killing myself
Maybe it's because I never know what to do with my hands when I walk
Or perhaps it's that the ghosts in the walls just won't stop staring
The lights here are pretty bright, y’know?
So bright that they illuminate every pore, mole, and imperfection on people's faces
Stare too long and you can even see their sins
Every strained brow and disgruntled look in their eyes

I've been thinking about killing myself
I know that it's bad and won't solve any of my problems, but, God, I could use a break
Something to stop time for a moment
Even if that moment lasts eternity
There's this spot on my palm that won't stop itching
I scratch away endlessly but there's something deeper there
Maybe if I could just peel away the flesh, reveal the sinewy underbelly beneath my callused skin
Maybe then I'd find some meaningful part of myself

I've been thinking about killing myself
Not in an extravagant way
One that will horrify all who hear
But something gentle
Something soft
Soft as my cat's fur when she snuggles close while I cry
Soft as the blankets I cling to every morning praying for a few extra minutes
Your voice is kind of soft, too
Would you sing me a lullaby?
Just like how my mother used to when I was little
Mom will be sad again, won't she?

I count my steps
So I won’t bleed out
And so you won’t start to hate me

I count them
So the world will stop
And all that’s left is me

I count them
Because I breath in colors
But colors don’t know how to speak

I count my steps
Because it’s not quite as lonely
When colors are walking beside me

I count them
Like it's the only thing
That's ever been important to me

I count them
As if it'll shield their eyes
24 hours 7 days a week

Vast open ocean
You call out to boats from afar
Hoarse voice and tired eyes

When I wake cold
With frostbitten lips and shaky hands
Crooked fingers
Petal-pink knuckles
The shadows speak to me softly

They talk of the moon and the lights that outshine her
Every twinkling star that dances across the hills
Each speck of gold and white filled with laughter
The red and blue that swim among them
Adorned in raindrops and scarlet flowers

They talk of the view from the tallest edifice
The way the ocean waves lap against the shoreline
The people that drift by
Gleeful and dejected

The warm yellow hue of the sky before dawn
Every beast that nestles in the earth
Each glow that dims before bed

They grasp at my skin
Wrapping around my silhouette
“Please,” they murmur
“Don’t forget to turn the lights out”

My mind’s fracturing into repeating patterns
Patterns of life and words I do not know
People I have yet to see
Breathing in equations and out various numbers
Numbers with no meaning
Sparse and erratic

Splintering sentences and irrational answers
Decimals
Quotients
Products
Products that cannot be expressed
Quotients that can never possibly be fathomed
Decimals to infinity
Never repeating
But repeating that same set of numbers
1 through 9 in every shape and form
Spiraling into the abyss

Unifying everything
Yet moving so fast
So far
That it all falls away
Quantum mechanics
General relativity
Are nothing in the face of this infinite knowledge
Infinite numbers
Infinite death
Death to these hands
Death to these atoms
Death to every particle of light that collapsed from a wave
Death of the universe

Death of me

I speak to you in prayers and far off looks
Every glance up into the sky or final thought before I drift to sleep
Every gust of wind that steals my voice and carries it up to heaven

I speak to you at the loneliest hour
When the sea of earthly stars drowns out those up above
And the coyotes howl almost as much as I did

I speak to you softly
Every word filled to the brim with sorrow and longing and yearning for a you that you never became
So much so that they overflow and spill out of my mouth taking my thoughts right with them

I speak to you like a river to its mountain
Dormant volcano turned barren land
Decorated with snow and ashes and trees I couldn’t protect

I speak to you with every cup of coffee I brew in the morn’
Every time that I wake and every kind word I say to myself
Because I wish that’s how you had spoken to me, too