here it is: the big pond.
and I start feeling like I might want to hurt myself
or hide myself
or I don’t know.
everywhere everyone is telling me I should be afraid.
everywhere everyone is telling me who I am.
everywhere everyone looks right through me.
it’s like I’m a ghost
or just an obstacle in the road.
I was someone once,
but no one is anyone here.

it’s my own fault.
it’s my own guts on the floor,
red appearing on my drunken hands
like I’m Macbeth, and I panic
trying to remember what I most recently did wrong.
god you’re so kind to me. it’s going to hurt so much when it runs out.
it’s going...