Wet


It is cold and raining and I don’t want to be here
Heading blindly towards wherever I’m supposed to be-
Although, where am I supposed to be?

I miss it all, but I can hardly recollect it.
Whether I once could, I cannot remember;
oblivion- ever fading, ever fading, finite.

My shadow grows but I think I am shrinking.
I take clothes pins to rough skin, and I try
To deform, contour, weave my veins apart.

But the world feels too full, nothing, empty, sensory overload-
And my thoughts fall upon themselves, like
Rain into puddles into rain into puddles into rain, drowning.

My arms are too weak to carry the weight I am bearing,
And I feel disembodied, separate, it’s all so
Comforting and suffocating and blissfully intoxicating.

In the way that flesh feels cold and blood lukewarm
And memories seem to fade quicker than
My cracked hand can grab at them-

In the way that fire lights upon gasoline
And children are born crying,
I am trying to understand.

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