a long time coming
this is what it feels like to want to die:
a slumbering wasteland in my chest,
sun cooling below the horizon and hidden
by forested acres of black
my breath starting to fade like a
bird in winter, it is slow and comfortable
numbly unaware, already snapping the strings
that loosely tie me to this earth
it's knowing the way to a gray world of my mind,
lingering in the unstable doorway, wavering
with veins that feel flimsy like ribbons
and cold smoke blowing up my spine
the way an old dog starts to drift,
how a cicada leaves behind a paper shell
when my tears brim of their own accord
a little more life seeping from aimless eyes
and a whole soul goes down with the stars
where the quiet nighttime stays awhile
and though the frost has stolen my feeling
I know this is how it feels to want to die
