GhostSlayer

I’m tired.

Not “need-a-nap” tired.

Not “school-was-long” tired.

I’m tired in a way that reaches all the way down to my ribs.

I don’t sleep much anymore.

I stay up listening.

Not for music.

Walking through the college greens 

On a warm night

Some random song stuck in my head

Playing on repeat once again

Smelling the new flowers blooming 

In the garden near my favorite picnic table

A ton of songs -

Over fifty -

I love them all,

But fade so quickly.

My interest dies

By the tenth repetition,

And so I move on

To a cooler mission.

This beat, this soundtrack

On a loop.

wrap your laced-up fingers around my throat like you don’t want to breathe,

hold my pupils in your palms. do you want to smile?

amnesia. the brain doesn’t like the watercolour poem of my skeletal frame,

"How could you say that?" 

"The real question is, how could you disagree?"

I’ve been told I’m not worth it
 

Am I really going to listen to the words of

Monsters who can’t see that I’m a human