fragments.

It's not just me who hates myself

I can feel the cells in my body

try to escape.

My bones are slipping

in a mudslide, and my neurons are

firing in space.

I'm everywhere but

where I am,

I need some kind of plan

to figure out how to

integrate myself

into a single being

existing in a single place.

I'm drowning in my unshed tears.

I'm confused yet certain

Although I'm not the perfect person

I'll continue to lie to myself,

convince the darkness

that I'll pay the light bill.

The light is overrated

the idea of getting

to the end of the tunnel

is a little outdated

because the only end

is death.

My shame comes out in my sweat,

to my singular moments of comfort

I am in debt.

What I need the most is fleeting,

so I chase it looking for meaning,

never realizing that maybe

I can still be content

accepting the unknown.