I hear that low dull buzzing din.
Of my internal monologue.
Running around.

And I want out.

But, I'm sickeningly.

Meanderingly.

Bothersomely.

Alive.

Hope has.
Just turned.
Into the same routine.
To try to get through.
Being alive.

Now I long for.
Quick days.
Eternity reduced.
To a milisecond panic.

No more.
Bad dreams.
No more self loathing.
The emptiness.
Of I didn't know.

It would be nice.
If at the end of forever.
All of this.
Meant something more.
Than just.
Witnessing the show.

It's that chemical taste.
That reminds you.
In a half hour.
You'll be much.
Much.
Much.
Higher, and no feelings will be.
Left.

If that tooth.
Would just.
Catch.
On a small.
Piece.
Of your skin.
And tear open your throat.
I might be.
Happy.

Eventually it dawned on me.
That grimacing when I was in pain.
Was to communicate distress.
To someone who was never there.
Now I just.
Take it.