Stuck in time on the forest floor,

I lay horizontal flirting with death.

Biting my lip for blood,

Bruising my pretty flesh,

I seek proof or some kind of reassurance.

 

But instead my lip stings, the revelation bleeds out:

There’s nothing but bones and gore inside here,

I am simply adjoined to life—alive, unliving.

 

As the world falls carelessly through me,

I lay in stillness with the aching desire

To have it forget my place,

Relinquish my name and be erased.

 

I attempt to banish my will from my body,

Begging it to let me expire in the dirt,

But for some reason the stubborn f*ck just won’t leave.