Last night I dreamt I committed suicide;
and it wasn't beautiful or poetic
it simply was yet another death.
I felt boneless and dizzy as I awoke on the dawn
of yet another day.
The sun shone through cracks in my window but
relief never came of not having that dream real.

Last night I forgot to sleep, I forgot to feel;
and I didn't toss around my bed but laid
as a corpse does in his casket.
I felt numb and yet somehow disappointed
of not having someone to scare away this beast.
This beast that clings to my body like a second skin,
this beast which eats away my sun,
this beast that grows with the ennui of life,
this beast which spits on raw wounds of my flesh.
It keeps me caged,keeps me inside,
belittling me and snickering just when I have managed
to get a foot out the door-
so I step back in and close it firmly shut.

Last night I prayed to anyone who would listen
and it was poignant and pathetic because
I awoke to another bright day of laughter from my peers
and I could do nothing but stare from a faraway place
with white noise stuck in my head.