i feel sick
more sick
than i have in a long time

and i don't just mean
with myself
though
that sickness
is ever present
i mean
the back of my throat
feels like donald trump
cut off his *******
and shoved it down there.
and
my head feels fuzzy
and full
of water
like vertigo
without the dizziness.
i am cold
but i am not cold.
yet to me
the way my body feels
finally matches
the way i feel
inside

i need to finish closing this bookstore
i need to go home
to my bed
to my family
to people who love me
but this bookstore
is the only place that feels like home
besides inside your arms
in your bed
which, metaphorically,
i shat in.

today
i googled
how to buy cyanide
and got angry
at the website
for not giving me better directions
on ******* myself.

sometimes
there are people who enter your life
for whatever reason
and if god were real,
they would be angels.
one of them
today
gave me a reason to live.
he told me to keep writing
and i did
even if it's just me
typing
with tears streaming down my face
but it helps
it makes me not feel so alone
it gives me something to do
when i am lonely
and when i don't feel whole
instead of searching for my own inner peace
in strangers eyes.

the second angel
i met today,
they left a comment
on a piece of my writing
telling me
it brought them empathy,
and understanding
to a negative part of their life.

now, if i am a horrible person
and i don't see a point
to life
to being in debt
to being depressed
to hurting others
to hating myself
and everything around me
well, it makes it all worth it
if ridding this negativity
through words
can somehow
bring positive light
to somebody else.

somebody better than me.
i will write
and i will continue to write
until i die
from either somebody killing me
or natural causes
i will not
take my own life
not for the sole reason
that it would actually break my mothers heart
and she is too kind of a person
to deal with that
but because
my pain
becomes someone else's
closure

because
negativity
can become positive
if you transfer the power.

because
music
art
and
literature
are the only things worth living for
and the only things
that anyone ever
needs
as a reason to live.

thank you.