my propensity  
to manifest demons into people
consistently projecting
the tragedies of my own imagination
into other people
my desire to eject
leaves me like the cockroaches
hungry and filthy
but i didn’t make me
right?
theres nothing in me that wants it
why can’t i starve
the deep hate
eat the world’s abundance
decadent and I, undeserving
i’m tired of not feeling something
only feeling nothing
drive my skin against the walls
that i built up
just to long for them to fall
but it’s not me
no accountability
ready
it’s you and me
i need purity
to know you want me
not just me in you
you make me feel nothing close of void
sleep with me
just me
i promise i don’t see