The petals stopped falling
My dear
Our flowers
Have wilted

Must we keep
Planting more?

If ever this room 

could stop spinning

maybe we could catch

our breath

The clock struck eleven

fifty-seven minutes ago

and I think that we

must be doomed

if only

it could all end

so I could just

catch a breath

of fresh air

if only the get out of this

white walled, single celled 

room that the disillusioned

poets 

began calling, "life"

 

All of my fears
have followed me down
into the depths of my dreams

I am drowning
but I'm wide
awake.

Is that how it feels
to fell
alive?

Lost between the words
Lost between the moments

Don't
Forget
Your
Self. 

Things have been feeling
heavy
again.

A weight on my chest
and I can hardly
breathe

Often
in the depths of night
I debate the realities
that surround me
and if there
could
ever be an
escape

Often
in the depths of night
I debate
if it's all really worth it

I just want to fall apart.

And yet
Piece by piece
I chip
and break
but I remain
Stoic

Repurposed
but
dead