life marred by sensitivity
wishing endeavors didn’t expend any effort
and that hurt could be neutralized
fighting the good fight with ghosts
vapor and synapse
yielding to abuse and ignorance
I need to control the pain I give myself
cutting to extreme as long as no one
knows how much hurt I do feel.
I can pretend. I can walk on a wire.
fight pain with the desire to suppress all feeling
not just hurt because there are other things I want to avoid
while hurtling in this void where the numb state is sought.
Driving over people to make it to places and check it off the list
so that when the knife ultimately cuts through the artery I’ll have
a completed list of inane tasks that will dissolve into the ether
and will become completely unknown, utterly alone.