I feel the need to fill it all up,
my days, that is,
gather plans and gorge
on seamless social interactions,
slurping up smiles and gulping
down the cool liquid of laughter,
picking my teeth with the bare bones of boring conversation.
I’m an introvert, but time alone isn’t helping anymore.
Alone, I spiral. I starve.

What is the purpose?
Someone distract me from these things in my head called thoughts.
Nourish me, I am dying and I’m wanting it, too.
Please,
laugh until my stomach is so stuffed that I heave out another joke.
Talk until I bite my tongue and bleed, eagerly chewing, cheeks
hurting.

What neon emptiness has driven me here
to the all-you-can-eat buffet?
While I feast on my friends under these fluorescents
my shadows only wait.

Nectar that soothes and leaves me
a-blossom.

Your words drip slow and syrupy,
like honey,
from your lips.

My skin is suffocating.

The weight of muscle and fat lie heavy on my organs.

The lack of space between nerve and bone is undeniably constricting.

I am trapped in this body.

Under flesh and blood
I am gasping for air,
to no avail.

I wish for nothing more than to break apart my sternum
and step out of this form.

My chest sunk with each exhale.

My throat burned,
and that heat spread like a wild fire throughout my entire body.

I couldn't tell if what I was feeling was purely a reaction from
the cigarette perched peacefully between my fingers,

Or stifled emotion,
overflowing,
seeping from my pores.