why am i dead?
i ask
no,
not dead
just really close to it
my lungs are failing
and every light
is too bright
and every noise is too loud
or too quiet
and i'm seeing things
that aren't there
and i confide
in friends that don't
exist

i'm not dead

i don't know what is real
and what is not
convincing myself that death only comes
once my heart stops beating
it's dumb
you can die when you are wide awake
you can die when you are breathing
but i'm dead and its all just
definitions in some student dictionary
sitting in an old library
keeping me believing
and it's okay

i'm not dead

i lie
a lot
i never pick up the phone
i'm scared of talking on the phone
i don't like my friends
they don't know anything about me
they don't know that i'm afraid of stairs
and bicycle riding
and crossing the street
and medicine
i'm afraid of everything
my hands won't stop shaking
i think that means i'm not dead
because my hands are moving
right?

i'm not dead

it takes me hours to fall asleep
and i usually wake up a few times
after i do
and i wear sweatshirts in the summer
because i think it's always cold
even when it's not
my hands are always cold
like a corpse
and i'm always angry
but i don't cry
i wish i could
but i can't