Lost a giblet of my thumb
to a meat slicer today,
and almost broke down
in an antique shop.
These things creep on us,
and who handles the pressure
even remotely well?

I'm not old enough,
and I'm not hopeful enough,
I'm just tired tired tired,
and most people I know
also want to be dead.
Express a strong desire
to disappear.

Moonlight traces the door frame;
a metaphor for an escape, except
everything is so fundamentally ****** up
the fear of the other side seems irrational
compared to the valid and rational
phobia of right now,
this side.

You disappear and I go
selfless and selfish into
any abyss dark enough
to hide me,
or devoid enough
to absorb me,
or ignorant enough
to forget I'm even there.

I wish terrible things upon everyone else
because I'm bitter and resentful.
I'm also still bleeding through the bandage
and the duct tape, and through the
metaphors and lack of meter.

I'm still bleeding.