In between Pages

Can't even think of a title rn..

I'm done-

sick and tired

(so tired)

of 

every

little 

thing

existing on planet Earth

choking me as

I sleep. 

I just want to sleep.

I want to be free 

of this relaxed intensity,

of this careless 

and passionate-less 

existence. 

If I can't feel 

anything,

then I don't want to be anything.

But still, I stay for you. 

It's sad when I can still remember 

the roses' lovely fragrence 

yet  bring them back to my lips and nose

and not even the smell of the spring air 

greets my waiting inhalation. 

I don't even want to die. 

I want to not exist. 

To have never existed. 

I want to go back in time and give my mother

a different child,

a better child,

a happy child

who can give her the grandchildren 

she so desires. 

I'm a fuck up. 

And I can't even kid myself to think, "Maybe one day, I'll change."

So I'll settle for denouncing my entity and returning to God. Or the ground. Whomever will have me.