I have been described as disarmingly kind and profoundly sad.
I'm told that you can see it in my face; as though I'm always on the verge of tears.
I suppose I am.
My thoughts are a collage of broken understanding and misaligned self-reflection;
A disconnect between reality and my own sense of worth so deeply ingrained into my brain that its malignancy has spread to every organ, bone, and nerve.
I will never be okay.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
Not the day after.
Or the day after that.
My flesh is so consumed with chronic dolor that it cannot help but reject the world within it and around it, ululating into the abounding nothingness that this life was never meant to be mine.
And yet still I harbar a virulent declination to death,
As though I've been infected with a spiteful resistance towards the tempting stillness of dying.
Living doesn't belong to me.
But neither does the sempiternal Hush.
(2023)
