i rise with a grenade on my chest
god of all creation,
why must i wake?
my breath has been withdrawn from my lungs
i am depleted
so fearful of death, but so fearful of life
i cannot tread on,
is there a vacancy upstairs?
i run blank when asked how i am
mind ripe with answers they do not wish to hear,
but my mouth is dry
only muttering out a "good"
the truth is uncomfortable and unwelcomed
each day is a replica of the one before
seemingly, the dread is eternal
passions become chores
friends drift off swiftly
there is no time, i am a ticking bomb
rest is out of the question
leave one job to drive to the next
the day is long, the night is short
i sink in the tub and watch my life slip away
there is nothing for which i am joyful
perhaps my pain is selfish,
or perhaps i am terminally ill
the body says fight,
but the mind says forfeit
my mind, the opposition,
taunts me every moment of awareness
vacuums me into a void that suffocates
it calls for blood
and it never rests
