A soft beginning at the dawn of day,
at the dawn of the universe,
where light didn’t hurt
and darkness hadn’t nested inside of my lungs,
blowing out ash with my every breath,
already awaiting my disintegration.
A softer ending-
when God isn’t watching
and I can become
the one who didn’t have to beg for immortality,
because I didn’t want it in the first place.
I speak in the spaces between words,
I walk with one foot over existence
and another over the no-longer-here,
and would it matter if I slipped
and fell
or if I burned at the moon’s mercy on a starless night?
There’s no difference in unmaking,
there’s no one to say I haven’t lived the seconds I stole
from my mother when she screamed me into being.
God wasn’t watching then.
The emptiness in my chest
turned outward
and spread like mold on the forbidden fruit.
They say Eve regretted her mistake.
I’m not so sure anymore.

It hurts...
When someone makes a list of last regrets and you don't even earn an honorable mention.

I can feel it.
Always ******* there.
A constant pressure.
An uncomfortable force
Pushing on my skin,
My soul,
My brain.
Deep breath in,
Flick of the wrist.
Sharp exhale.
One more slit for the pain to escape through.
One more splatter on the bathroom floor.
One more day of relief.

Hopeless poisoned
Precious one
The drowning's only half the fun.

Submerge, submerse
Sink deeply now
I'll close my eyes
And follow down.
In mud and muck
We'll sink and choke
We'll dine on fear
And purge on hope
And when our lungs
Draw deep for breath
We'll exhale smoke
We'll feast on death.