Feeling like dying is so much like touching a girl's chest for the first time --- I tremble and don't know how to stop; I do not breathe but my lungs are doing fine.

When my hair was long, people told me to cut it. Now my hair is short, people are telling me to never have short hairstyle ever again.

I am too heavy I cannot be in high places. They cannot hold me. They would collapse. I am too heavy I cannot even move my legs. My feet are planted to the ground. I may well be a high place.

But buried alive I am.

I do not breathe but my lungs are doing fine. I cannot swim anymore. I do not have hands anymore. My stomach is a pool full of HCl. My stomach is tomatoes stomped by muddy boots. My stomach too large I do not wear it anymore.

In the morning I don't think of dying anymore. I do not think of it anymore. I am actually doing it. The dying thing.

I have wings like bats, I eat rats like bats. When I have no money in my wallet I can't sell myself because no one wants to buy me. I have legs like snakes, I eat rats like snakes. In a night like this I only want to be a tiny sea creature. It would be cold enough. It would be salty enough. It wouldn't be beautiful. Nothing beautiful fits to be perfect. I want perfect. I want flawless.

Good bye. I can't see you again. Someday when I hear your name it would always be the first time. Please just let me. Go.