it feels like a lead blanket has been draped across my chest

breathing is difficult

sensation has gone numb

i feel a lump in the back of throat

choking on the bittersweet feeling of nothingness

an absence of all

the weight of all this discontent, the open eyes stare at the crumbling ruins, a beauty in disaster

shaking from the damp cold that permeates my being

or more accurately lack of being

it is an aggressive form of cancer ravaging my body

the rate of cellular decay, of soaking my organs in bleach to remove the stain of warmth

last ditch efforts to salvage the vessel at the cost of emotional access

i am closing the doors, sealing the exits and sitting placidly in the doomsday bunker of my own design

of my own demise

of my own desire

canned goods and bottled water line the walls

finger painting setting suns

and recycling tears for future consumption

this is the childhood home i once dreamt of