spurious little devil

the sky
is crushing me.
it's only when i breathe in
deeper, with my stomach, when i breathe
properly, that i realize
i can't breathe at all.

and maybe i was
wrong.
i don't want to
die but maybe i do want to
disappear. fade away.

opinions matter too much;
yours, theirs, mine, what the numbers
show versus what the
mirror
shows. what i let myself think -
what i let myself believe.

i said, if i can't die
for them, i'll live
for them.
tell me, what's the difference
between just being
alive and actually
living?

the clouds are giving me
a headache.

at the risk of becoming
a risible cliche spewer, be
careful what you wish
for. i wanted to be
strong and now i am
strong and i am sick of being
strong i want to
cut
again i want to
wallow and purge and eat
too little and say the
wrong things because i think the
wrong things and i also do the
wrong things, in case you still think
actions speak louder than words.

i would be a masochistic
hedonist, if i
were
one. but no i'm
kind and
caring and
determined and
bright and
strong and i
people like it that
way.
tell me, does wanting to be
weak make me
weak?

(in turn)

let's have three cheers for the
broken and three cheers for the
dying and three shots for understanding
that those are not the same; if it's
broken, it can be
fixed.

[too late - does it
want
to be
fixed?]

standing next to the fields
of love and self-
acceptance, i am this close to
just
closing the door again.

i like security, can you
blame me?

please do blame
me. i want to go back
to believing that i deserve
to be
blamed.

i need to hate myself because
it keeps the monsters
at bay
the real monsters that
is
not these smaller ones like
depression and starvation and
anxiety and addiction


i might want to not
write, or
read, or
walk, or
think, or
talk, or
love, or
learn. i might want to just
be
one
with the big blue sky.

your warm hands, they
can keep me alive and they
can keep me living but they
can't keep the monsters
away
only i can keep the monsters
(away)


bones are strong. they
are not a matter of
opinion, they simply
are.
just bones, bones and sky. no
body, no mind, and no
heart.
just bones. bones
and
sky.


the real monsters
in hiding
in my head
just waiting
bidding

their time

(my time)


_{all matter is is light and
air. i want to disappear but visibility
is a myth in and of
itself. the body i torment
myself about
is not
real.}



let's talk about love
and how i'm not in it
let's talk about the future
and how i'm wasting
it


_{even bones
are not real
reality is about
perception definition
and belief
but i see things
that i know
are not real
this body is my
vision
my physical existence is my
delusion
i have no control
over
anything
help
i am real
i am not real
i am right
i am wrong
accurate reality testings
hypersanity
distortions, delusions
insanity
/if i disappear i won't need
to think about it
or about anything
else}

but feelings
are real and i
  am real even though i
   am not here and my
    feelings are real even though we
     need to differentiate feelings from real
      life in order to be
       sane

look, there is the moon
feel these pages
underfinger underfoot
i demand
to be crushed
i demand
to be killed i demand
to be


cured



((let me drift away
from you
with you
; we are the
strong
1
s.))