I am falling asleep
not because of the tiredness,
not because of the dizziness,
but the colourlessness.
When the lights are off, I realise
that I am not afraid of darkness.
It is empty, it’s lifeless,
so it’s endless, it never dies.
I used to moan,
I used to cry and regret being born.
I wish I’d died,
couldn’t bear to be alone.
But it’s all gone,
and I feel the desire to live is strong.
But I’m bored.
I am endlessly bored with this world.
Everything I’ve been told
seems to be wrong,
I don’t feel home,
I just feel odd.
I am warm inside,
and the darkness around me is cold.
But the darkness will never die,
it’s just me who is getting old.
When my eyes are closed, I realise
that the beauty of death is life.
I am not immortal, I will soon shrivel,
but, unlike darkness, I will also thrive.
february 2017