im so sad

like that sludge i imagined was real.

rolling down my arm

to my fingers where it dripped,

into thinned out bile

slowly emptied into clay-

while that hollowed out space

where the ruffled death grew

lay emptied

of pain,

of purple,

of you..

and not just of weight now;

but of possibility too..

and i lay here

slumped

in this decadent space

of a morbid fascination

with a life i cannot claim–

and my fingers tingle

and my heart beats too slow

and that pounding in my head

tells me

ill never know.

never know,

no i wont,

ill just wait,

ill just lay,

in a torturous bind

of impossible dreams

cause everythings

wrong.

and no one is brave.

and i

am

too

small.

too.

small.

to

smal.

to move,

this mountain,

alone.