Rant

IV

Your door is closed.

It is wooden, but hollow
Even if it opens, and you walk outside
Nobody feels welcome
But everybody shivers, scared

I knock for the door to fall
but only the skin on my knuckles do

I watch the skin fall, and the blood follow after
Raw wounds that need time to heal
A perfect circle-shaped break in my skin
A fitting ring for my soul to feel
The hollow beat of my heart
  - of jagged stone against cold tin

V

I am trying.

Sometimes I just want to take it all away. To uproot myself from the world, tearing out the roots.

I am my own adhesive - I can take away everything, wipe it away. Clean. Empty. Start all over again.

I want to jettison myself away. Jetsam. Debris from a larger whole. I often wondered how it feels to escape, and now I wonder when.

Separate, then blur out the lines.

Nakakapagod na.