I have a bin,
A bin,
A bin of every wish.

Every wish I’ve had,
Every wish sin-clad,
And every wish sung bis.

My wishes are all
So selfish,
For I only wish
To learn
What I would become
When every written page
I’ve read is ever burned.

I’ve wished for life,
I’ve wished for death,
I’ve wished to see
A final breath
Escape the lungs
Of those I love
Just to see if I
Would cry.
I wish that I
Would die.

I toss my thoughts,
My dreams,
My sins,
To join my ever-
Filling bin.

I toss them all,
All to become
My own ideal eye.
I wish that I
Would die.

And though I banish
All of the thoughts
That endanger me
By existing,

A voice that sounds
Just like my own
Persists on its insisting.

I cannot cry
Or spare a sigh
For indifference
Consumes me so.

In face of fear,
Unlike a deer,
I’ll die
With my eyes shut closed.
A surely, I’ll never know.
Surely.