the indifference begins
as tempting to sink into

but its insidious nature
catches my ankles
and drags all that it can
with it

my plans to be
the thing I claim to be
overruled by the clots
in my skull

anything perceived as dull
raises a shotgun to my
right temple
by my right hand

while my repetitive demands
to end it all
are just a stall

or are they?

there is no difference
between being dead
or being alive

my only means to survive
is to dissolve
into any substance
within my radius

including the circus
living in my attic

and when the body bag
rolls out
all that is remembered
is what I was unable to give

all that is remembered
is being unable to live
with and without

whatever it is
I think I need

just let me bleed

just let me scratch
my eyes

just let me gurgle
in the sludge
known as doubt

until I can’t take it anymore

until all the rot
the blood-stained floor

I thought all of this
was done with

but those moments
of certainty
the apathy infused
in me

as each paradox
brings forth
the sense
of instability

extreme left
and right
on the continuum
deny the need to reconcile

for now denial
will suffice
in the absence
of firearms

and true intent.


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