Disappear.

Yup. This about sums it up.

Surrendering

Draw it across, once, twice, three times fill the furrows.
Gently now so as not to scare them, lap the ichor up with
A three-pronged tongue. Watch the eyes…they always kill.
Watch his eyes, they kill me. Turn around to face the music,
Wrestle with the notes as they brush against the skin…

He butchered me with a single sentence. He destroyed me with
A thought. Honesty was the virtue that gnashed its teeth, that rose
Up like Leviathan and ate the air around me. I fell with eyes open,
The blues and greys rushing past like the modem glow of his gaze.
‘Obscurity like glue,’ he said…but it was all lies. We splintered.

Headstones like child-flung pebbles dotted the hillside; we two traversed
In near-silence, searching (seeking desperately) for redemption that
Traipsed unseen between us. There was orange empty pavement in his
Smile, a vacant lot behind his eyes fenced by poignant pictures. Images of
Who-am-I and what-they-think and why-did-I severed his esteem in detail.

Tender wanting looks shot with soft precision, the rabbit’s taste still lingered
On my mouth. I tried in vain to dredge the truth—I hoped in desperation such
Words would find me worthy. Worse than silence his mordant remarks; devoid
Of any sentiment, they slithered like white worms into my heart and gnawed
Loose private composure. On the inside I died…on the out I shook and moved away.

Beneath the exterior ripe with painted thorns, something sincere lurks and
Sighs. Begging on knees not used to crushing passion, I beg you…bring about
The birth of earnestness. Nothing is lost forever, and still I stand here—waiting,
Perhaps, always waiting. Unable to see through the mire of half-truths and
Uncertainties, I ask: find me. Catch me. Heal me. Help me.

Oh, does this week look like it's going to suck. Depression's riding my back like a three-ton monkey. Insanity's peering over my shoulder and huffing like an asthmatic rhinoceros. I need to shake loose everything that's had me down and upset this last week and half...but I can't. "Run away, terrified child." If only I could, Maynard. If only I could. I've got to hold it all up in order to take a test Thursday, in order to start and finish a six-page critical analysis paper due Friday, and in order to help my sister get ready for prom Saturday. Bleeeeeeergh. "Disconnect and self-destruct one bullet at a time. What your rush? Everyone will have his time to die." Not to seem completely bitter and disgustingly black, but if life isn't going to get any better soon, that 'time to die' had better come quick.