i struggle
thinking about the difference between reality and what i've made up in my head
sometimes i get confused about whether I'm real or...
- the obvious word choice is dead right?
but **** that because i'm not.

i'm so alive i can feel my heart beating all the time
i can hear my blood gushing through me
this isn't some 20 year old shyster declaring death
this is a tirade against every black cell in my glowing body.

i don't want to feel nothing
but i don't want to feel this:

a hopeless sense of nothing where you can't attach to anything
a feeling that you have so much to say but you can't get the words out
and you have no one to tell
a holding back of tears all day long until dark when suddenly
you feel ok again
but you have a sense of dread, because you know that it will be back tomorrow.
i wrote a ****** poem about the night for my english class and my teacher looked concerned
i told her it was a joke
because why the **** would i tell her anything else

every word i've ever written anywhere i want to erase
every single thing i've said i'm wincing at in embarrassment
if i could eat words i'd be fat, gorging on the humiliation that found its home in my vowels syllables nouns adjectives verbs and mutterings

i feel quite sick at the thought that it's only 13:51 and i have a whole life to lead.