I can feel the sizzling sun
shedding my skin away from this body—
another day, another burn,
another pointless step forward
into a world that never cared,
never asked if I was alive.
I can smell it now—
the stench of a thousand dead dreams,
the rot that settles in, slow but sure,
like smoke in an empty bar.

I’ve been a corpse for years,
wrapped in this glittering disguise—
a walking, breathing,
rotting contradiction.
My heart stopped beating
long before anyone noticed.
But the legs keep moving,
one foot after the other,
like a machine on autopilot,
driven by the cruel joke of existence.

There’s a silence in my bones,
a scream that died a decade ago,
and I carry it with me,
a ghost chained to a body
that just won’t quit.
The sun, it burns, and I’m grateful—
maybe it’ll strip away the last
of this flesh, this illusion.
Maybe it’ll show them what I really am:
not alive, not anymore,
just a dead thing
pretending to breathe.

© reddragonfly