this, this is not the reality that i want

and i am wishing i remembered how to feel numb


and there is something in this knowing but there is too much horror here 






when i sleep i want to wake when awake i want to sleep


trying to remember to make myself breathe


i've never been good at that, have i




and there are not even tears because, because

been spending long hours in the shower tearing my flesh off and i know you don't have to tell me the cells have sloughed off long ago it's not the same skin but possibly it's burned in too deep 


and i'm frostbitten and black 


or i wish i were, wish i were made of stone, of bone, of anything but soft white flesh


of anything heavy enough to anchor me to the present


because i regret nothing i've done, don't believe in regret unless you knew the right choice

and i don't know what to do with this, i don't, i don't