J'cuse me, I am worth nothing more than the sound
of one hand clapped
to brow
so low

what was I thinking contending with kings?
lowbrow roots remain,

I once was laughed at for saying dirt farmers were
enabled to hear the voice of creation,
and contend for right to use the knack
to form holding patterns and maps
to meaning never realized true.

Ezekiel level riddlers
sunalizo,
eh?
Being assembled in one breathe able bubble
not of our own framing
at the core.

Seed level and beyond,
Life's the game we endure to the end.
Today is the day we survive,
livin' by rules,

imagined as good enough to grow on, back when
we
made'm up,
muppit wise as wishers were, back in the day,
back
in the world of men.

You sit awake at 5 AM
Unable to sleep from the heat
A mind burdened by desire and ambition
Blurry dreams that are out of focus
Impossible to see for the eyes that have lost their vision
Out of touch from the heart beat slowing down
You’d mourn the loss of your being
But tears can’t heal the dying
And pain, no matter how brilliant, can’t bring back the dead
You climb back into your coffin
Next to your fellow corpse in the bed of hope
And you realize
Sometimes it’s better to let it die

Recently, I haven’t been feeling myself.
I feel like I’ve lost myself over the years.  

There are more times of me feeling hollow, empty than of me being happy.  I don’t know how to explain it.  Nor do I even know how to fill that hole.  

People say that it’ll get better.  
                            What will? When? Why did it happen?

People say that things will change.
                            For better?  No. You don’t know that.

Often, I look out the window and imagine an alternate world.  Some place where I would be smarter.  Prettier.  Liked more.  Better.  

That wish might overlap with some people.

Being a Marvel fan, I always wanted to have Spider-Man powers.  And maybe a piece or fragment of Tony Stark’s intelligence and creativity.  

Creativity that I had lost over the years.  Intelligence that I never had to begin with.  Powers or abilities to make me proud of who I am.  Now I have none of those and the only thing that is left of me is the empty shell and the mask that I wear to hide.. me.

-

I’m not proud of myself.  Nor are my parents.  Not even my friends.  If they were to know who I was.  I hide behind smiles and jokes.  I use your humor as a way of keeping people at a distance.  

No, my parents aren’t divorced.  No, I’m not disabled.  
Yes, I attend a fairly good school.  Yes, I have good people around me.  

Despite all the good things I have, I can’t stop feeling. Useless. Worthless. Not enough.  I don’t feel motivated to do anything.  I feel like the part of me that wants everything to end is taking over me day by day.  I sometimes want to jump out of the window but I fear pain.  I’m weak.  I want to buy pills and swallow the whole bottle but I don’t know what pills to buy.  It’s hard to get ahold on them here in Japan.  Should I burn everything I own before I die?  Or disappear after selling everything?  

I feel the need to do so so that my parents don’t have anything to look back on.  So they wouldn’t have to feel so ashamed about having me as a daughter.  I cry often now.  My father tells me that I did this to myself.  Bad grades.  Bad friendships.  No motivation.  I’ve disappointed many people in my life.  I cry feeling sorry for myself even though I have dug my own grave.  

I somehow never seem to learn.  I think there’s something wrong with me.  I’ve been telling my parents there’s something wrong with me but they just tell me I’m making up things.  Excusing myself from the reality that I am a disappointment.  That I messed up.  That I am dumb.  Useless.  I will never amount to anything.  I am hollow.  I am but a shadow of everyone else that used to be friends with me.  

I am not writing this for hope that I will change.  I just feel the need to put this out there.  Not for help.  I don’t seek help anymore.  Nothing will ever change.  

Some say, “Not with that attitude” but I’m tired of hearing those words.  I’ve already made and broken so many promises that I am not worthy of change.  Or a miracle.  I sometimes wish that whenever I go out to buy groceries, a car or truck will hit me.  I wish for an accident to happen so that I will die.  Or that something drastic would happen to me so that I will be away from everything.  Possibly in a hospital bed.  Possibly dying on the side of the road.  Possibly giving me a disability so that I could finally have an excuse of being who I am.  

I’ve imagined people at my funeral.  Not many will be there.  And even those who attend, will have never known the real me.  My true feelings.  About my friends, parents, education—everything and anything.  

I am writing this because I can’t tell anyone about this.  I understand that it doesn’t make sense.  Don’t worry about posting comments on this.  I will be glad that it has been read.  Although it was long.  I don’t know who you are or what you have been through.  I apologize for taking up your time.  

I don’t know what I am.  Who I am.  What I will be in the future.  I know nothing.

One thing I dislike about the night is
It ends,
The comfort, the coziness all have to end.
It gives space for the day to rise.
Which makes me see all the emptiness and ask me to wise.
I don't wanna die, I don't wanna live in lies
Wish the night prevail forever in the skies
So the pain, the hurt, the failure never visible to my eyes.