The heart that beats

pumps the fluid I shed,

inking these sheets

with words in blood red.


I cannot ****

what's already dead,

I've got no will

so I won't find a way ahead.


Lost in my mind

these thoughts I thread,

while living in rewind

I curse the present instead.


Lonely like the 52Hz whale

I stay unheard & unsaid,

in this self-created jail

hallucinating the reality I dread.


I wish that I could resurrect,

like a butterfly from its skin shred,

all my broken parts could I collect

and piece them into poetry unread.