a blotch of blood and bleh on the clay,
decay this half a life I’ve lived down to a speck,
let it linger and flit around the summer breeze,
floating from face to place until it leaves no trace.
boil my essence into a single drop of elixir,
peddle it to all the bidders of London,
let them pool their purses nimbly,
til they get their prize,
a thirty-three and a third life,
and they can wear it like a brooch,
shimmering, vibrant,
worthless.
“one day, i’ll,”
i say, over and over, to the bathroom tile
and i fill that void with goals, expectations,
happiness.
and everytime i leave that shower,
all of those goals, expectations,
happiness,
all drip off my skin,
leaving me with the familiar refrain of
the ordinary.
well.
one day, i’ll finally break that cycle, you see.
and i’ll be.
what a world that’ll be, when i choose to be me.
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