plastic heart

i feel and fear the futility of my nature—this desire to be good in a way that is without sin, without imperfection

i am inhuman with it

the brunt of this longing for the goodness of a martyr within a body and mind brimming with regret, soiled with shame

seeping out from every crevice

my resentment is relentless and overflowing—all these past lives lost, all these rotted versions of myself slain, dead at my feet

is it cruelty if you fucking kill yourself

with despicable thoughts, with unforgiving taunts and jaunts and hopeless, empty reiterations that you are not enough

that you are the dirt under your nails

and that’s all you are—your worst moments, the filthy grime of all your wrongs staining the paths before you

don’t you know the truth deep down?

that the goodness you think you have is a façade, an ornamented tree, a pretty, sweet-smelling flowered wall, a well oiled machine

how do we justify our lives?

how can we act like mistakes can be undone, denying their existence, drowning them in a lake in the dead of night

and pretending they never existed?

even though the blood is on our hands, sticky like paint, warm like a heated pool— chlorine and steam, metallic crimson

i want to erase myself completely

if that’s what it takes to absolve this feeling, this unrelenting war inside my head, i would do it in a heartbeat

it’s never too late, but it feels that way

i will never be free from the shackles of my past, from lies slipping past my lips like poison, from the way coldness found a home in the sharp ridges of my face

i don’t recognize myself sometimes

i fear my kindness is a disguise for my fear of judgement, and my goodness is a mask of sorts that has morphed onto my face, one i cannot wrench off; tap a nail to my cheek

and the clack of plastic will resound

—

Thank you guys so much for reading ♥️

If anyone is interested, I’m hosting an ongoing unofficial challenge! You can check it out below: