I oscillate between the desire for a soul
to pour my misery into,
or a heart that beats in time with mine
to banish the ambivalence
of the anguish that rests at my core.
Everything I hold comes with a price.
For sympathy, I drain myself dry,
yet I remain overwhelmed
overflowing with emotions
that may not even be mine.
So now I carry double the weight:
your eyes and mine,
showing me how I’ll soon be eaten away
by my anguish again.
For how can I hold my emotions
up to your consciousness
without yours gnawing through
every nerve in my system?