don't apologize. i can't breathe. i collapsed on the stairs at a quarter to two and i haven't found my feet yet. please help me up. please push me down. i think i'm letting my lungs collapse. i think i just spit up saltwater. is the carpet staining? i need you to grab my hand. i need you to hold my lungs together. i need you. i need you.
is it night yet? i can't see the stars. i can't feel the wind. my skin is numb and my eyes are on fire and i'm sitting in the middle of a room without windows and i can't breathe. why aren't you listening? can't you hear me? i'm choking on regrets. i'm choking on my spine. i'm coughing up alcohol from last night and i'm spitting out my teeth but i still can't breathe.
i need a prayer. i need a song. i need you to write a poem for me and read it out loud until i can't hear anything but your voice. i need to stop driving with my eyes closed. i need to stop pretending i have wings. i need you to close your eyes and pretend i know. pretend i don't need you. pretend i know what this is. pretend i know who i am. anything. everything. pretend i know.
where is my pulse?
help me find my clothes. help me find an answer. i'm fumbling in the dark and i'm turning upside down without a way to find my balance. i'm tumbling. i'm falling. i'm scraping my knee and bleeding all over the floor. i'm coughing up words we've never heard before and pretending they're beautiful. i'm rearranging the stains on my jeans and saying they're profound. you're helping me up but i can't see your hand.
stop saying sorry. stop telling me you can't give me what i want. i don't know what i want. i don't know what i am. how can i ask for something when i'm not breathing? i walked on my hands and knees for five minutes today before i realized the world looked the same from down here. my throat got ripped to shreds trying to swallow the world. my hands are shaking and hitting all the wrong keys.
we're not making music, we're making chaos. we're swirling every color together because we thought it'd be a rainbow. but it's just black. it's just brown. it's a mess and we created it. it's hideous and it's our love child. are you proud of what we've created? are you touching the fucking awful masterpiece and saying that we're a genius and somehow in this word vomit we created something worth reading? because we didn't. we just fucked it all up. we just took the sun and bagged it and claimed the sky looked brighter when it was gone.
we weren't wrong. we were just anything but right.
we're not alive. we're just too stubborn to die.
i'm not breathing. why am i not breathing?