ive spent most of my life wishing i was dead,
but i always fasten my seatbelt when i drive
and the turbulence of the plane never fails to turn my knuckles white.
and i often wish that you had killed me
and maybe you still will.
see, i am starving and you don't notice,
the stars behind my eyes,
the creaking of my bones.
and i know that you're tired,
because i am too,
though you have been sleeping since i was born.
and when you lay me to rest,
i hope you finally get the sort of quiet you deserve.