i wish death was as sweet as when it's romanticized
i wish you could **** me
in a way that feels like i am sleeping
i'd curl up in the comfort of your poison ivy arms
until i am so weak
and i could finally go easily
but my life is filled with bloodshot, hungry, swollen eyes
that stare right into me
and contemplate my very breathing
though i just don't care to see them
and they mean nothing to me
those same eyes that did condemn me to a life devoid of sleep
now depend on the conditions they all  imposed onto me
to hold steady and not subject them
to the trauma of my absence
it's the only thing hindering me from succumbing to this fractured spine that i exist with
even quicker than i will eventually

should i be thinking of you
or savoring this time that you're asleep by doing something less painful for a change
because when you're awake my body works till it aches to occupy sufficient time in your day
so you'll remember me
cause it's all that i can change,
the amount of insignificant praise that i give you
just hoping you won't go away
and i count the hours as it gets late
accounting for everything i can see
praying you don't start another chain of things that don't involve me
cause i can't handle it
i'm so weak
and it's the most mundane things that trigger this anxiety
and so i'm tired
and i'm sorry

and i'll let you rest
cause God knows you need it
much more than me