tous

Can I tell you about this guilt that is eating itself inside up and through me-
it is curling in like tendrils across the cracks of a dehydrated heart
I am living through the want to be better and the knowing that
Tomorrow I might finally achieve this but every night
when the stars settle up on the hill, hiding underneath a blanket
of black black black
I see the inside of my eyelids, blood vessels and
all- and I see the life pumping through and I relive
every moment and it feels so shitty
because each day I have achieved
nothing at all
I have existed and lived (lived)
They tell me to stop with my profanity
but I am being concise and direct
(this is all I mean to say
I do not want you to pity me; I do not want your spent sympathy)
I feel everything and
I am nothing.