Night-time. Horizontal. Steady breathing. Dilated pupils.

If only my daytime rationalizations would carry me through.

Magnetic destruction.

Pretend.

We do not exist.

Only makes me realize

how little I know of myself.

Want to know you.

Maybe it’s the pulsating rhythm in my ear.

Or, maybe it’s my lips mouthing your words.

I will never speak like you.

Has overtaken my soul.

From this day forward I will be happy.

As decided.

I will self-medicate.

With laughter.

The muscles of my abdomen will quiver from exhaustion.

I will rest,

and sleep.

I will have become a boy again.

I need to escape to you.

Instead I escape from you.

Awareness of moments and interactions betrayed.

I am the sinner.

I should pause and speak of north-westerly air.

Less humid. Cool.

Breathing in to the stopping point.

Holding. Holding.

How old were you when you died?

I was 35.

The day of.

Attempt to destroy them.

Lose hope.

Gain resolve.

Repeat.