I don’t want to feel like I can’t breathe anymore
I don’t want to feel like the wind feels
When it tries to pass over a vent in the sidewalk
I don’t want to smell like other people anymore
I don’t want to wake up with the scent
Of thirteen-dollar cologne and sweat
Sticking to my skin like starfish to the bottom of the sea
I don’t want to be reminded of my empirical downfall
When I haven’t any sleeves to cover myself
And I can look down and see the canal of flesh
That was left behind after trying to rot it away
I don’t want my mouth to taste like coffee,
Smoke, vomit, and bad wishes anymore
My eyes are burning and my throat is sore
And now glass is bursting in the small of my back
I am living inside of an invisible box
And the walls are closing in quickly
And I’m starting to forget how to breathe again