I was hoping that another post
Explaining how raw I felt
After saying all that
But it seems
That all that openness
Spilled back onto me
Burned me, crisped me, boiling,
I’ve been living as someone else
On the internet
For a short time now.
Only a little while
My alias is not hard to
I enjoyed all this
As someone else
Now, it’s starting to take shape
Don’t let them read
It’s safer to rhyme
The government can’t understand
I was hoping that if I worked hard
I could transform into someone else
Someone that people would read
Someone finely tuned to reality
My depression encouraged me
To feel shitty and quit
But my anxiety tightens the rope
Around my neck–
Writing loosens it.
Now I’m reading and re-reading and re-writing
Editing and revising
Revisions of decisions I revised and rewrote
All these ideas are now forming a noose
Made of words
Around my throat.
I will keep trying to write it all down
I will keep trying to not drown
But I am a volcanic cunt, remember?
Almost my whole body is
Drowning in the sea.
Can you drown, though
If you never learned to breathe?
Maybe, I’ve got some sort of super power
Some sort of something that makes me
Otherwise I’d be dead, certainly.
Well, I will survive today I guess
Tomorrow, we will see
What I’m really made of
Regardless of who claims me.