Illustration by Gabrielle Conlon.

Illustration by Gabrielle Conlon.

I want to stay awake,

I’m happy to have woken up.

(I want to go to sleep,

I never want to wake up.)
Each breath comes easily,

my lungs are unclouded.

(Each breath is a battle,

my lungs are flooding.)

My heart,

it sings.

(My heart,

it’s forgotten all the words,

forgotten the rhythm of living.)

 

My appetite has grown,

I can no longer feel the jut of my ribs.

(My appetite is apathetic,

my ribs are breaking free.)

 

My legs have healed,

there are no more scabs to scrape off,

no more wounds to reopen.

(My legs have given up,

there are just too many scabs,

too many wounds to irritate with restless fingers.)

 

Sleeping.

It comes easily,

so easily.

 

I dream my dreams of having dreams.

 

And when I wake, I see them for what they are;

the illusions of a mind

drunk on fear,

high on hopelessness.

 

And all this time I thought I was living,

such was my illusion of grandeur.