Swan Song

Im back, it’s the same as before. My face in my bed, my knees to the floor. I pray to god for less. May I be more than this detested whore loaned out and fucked for free by life and no one else? May I pass upon the grace of skin? As in, may I glide my limbs over it? Over its ripples and dips? Over her smooth and strong eclipsed. This is some shit. I hope my bed absorbs my mucus and dribble. I whine into it riddles, of which I understand little. Moans and shattered screams scratch my lungs and imitate dreams. They pry at my tissue by any means. I eat parts of myself fatty and lean. And spread the blood on my sheets because, I feel like bathing in myself is the key. But look where that’s got me: The same as before. An imitation. An unoriginal copy. I can’t get away. May this be my last time that I appear to pray. I appear to pray. I hide my face and fall today I fall today. I falter today. This my will and testament. I leave all my nothings to my parents, I’m sorry I disappoint you. You taught me everything right, I meant to do so much more. I meant to at least get off the floor. I meant to be better than I’ve been. To get a fucking life and take it for a spin. But I can’t win. I’m so tired of losing. I’m so tired and I can’t sleep. To my sister, I thought we would grow old together. Take care of mom and dad. Im sorry I can’t do that. I can’t. To Luke, my homie, my brother, you’ll do great things in this world. Your kindness was a respite from the fighting to be understood. Charis, I’m sorry. Im glad we paid you for your time because of all the years you spent trying to repair and fill a heart with a hole in it. I lost my heart in it. I hope you see the art in this. It needed to happen. Sofia. You’re the only one. Keep that wonder. Keep that love. You could disappoint no one. My disappointment is a result of my false expectations and hope. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just can’t do any more.