when you get a cut
and blood starts to pour from the injured area
can it be described as your life escaping you?
i feel in all the time i’ve spent breathing
i’ve spent most of it trying to bandage up
wounds that have nearly kept me from doing so
when in fact
there has been no purpose to this
no matter how i delay the process
the inevitable waits just around the corner
taunting
teasing
tantalizing
so maybe one day
i’ll grow too tired to replace these bandages
maybe one day
i’ll let the wounds run their natural course
and maybe one day
i’ll let life escape me without a fight
but until then
i’ll dress the wounds
one by one
and hold on to what i have
until what i have
becomes too much to hold

but there is nothing left to write about
i’ve exhausted all the colorful ways to describe loss
smeared yellow paint in places it shouldn’t touch
to describe this most hollow feeling
that can only truthfully be painted grey
and i feel
that if i keep writing
i’ll run out of ways to say i’m hurting
run out of poetic ways to phrase my pain
run out of ways to detach myself from this reality
run out of time and place and keep
running
until i’ve run out of what i once thought was endless