i think i messed up. incomplete contentment, nothing’s the same but there’s nothing different. life’s becoming blurry again. emotion is lacking in situations that call for sympathy. a trachea not in midline and veins that pulsate, fractured patella and dislocated wrists. how do i explain my leaking, stapled wounds? you would only laugh if you saw how disheveled i was. how am i supposed to fix myself when everyone thinks i’m perfect except you? do i value their opinions over someone that doesn’t know me?  in reality, i am an artificial ghost. no one even sees me. i have no desire to be alongside a body other than my own, the one i lost when i was stupidly vulnerable (what did you expect for me to say?). once fearful of letting myself go, now i’m ridding this desolate place. how nostalgic.

you hit me and my knuckles feel sore. i’m on my knees when there’s a knot in your shoelace. missed me? your whimpers sound more desperate than before. didn’t think you could want me this badly. take this hand to serve yourself, take this leg as a cane, and take this rib to construct the instrument that plays the sound of my cries. maybe i do exist for others, but you exist for me. your venom only makes my cuts sting, not the bites.

it's complicated. i’d prefer the rusted fountain to the broken bird cage. arms are intertwined, but i wish they were someone else’s. backs splayed on the ground, feet planted on the side of the building. “it looks like an endless road,” but it’s finite to me. shortening the distance is as simple as pulling the trigger (who said it was easy?). i clean his skin out from under my nails. who does he even like? he doesn’t even know who i am. nonetheless, i hope you’re jealous knowing i look prettier for him. i’m chasing the sun on a treadmill, my teeth are grinding on glass; such an euphoric feeling. the what could’ve been never tasted so good. "let’s take advantage of everything in every way” (myself included but i don’t think he likes the thought of that as much as i do).