I can feel my neck artery
pulsing, jumping,
trying to free itself and
flood the bathtub with its
imposing crimsoness.
My hands are shaking and
I can barely write;
all I wanted was to free this
goddamn artery and be free;
free of the agony of existing,
of the knots in my stomach and
spider nests in my throat.
All I wanted was to be free of
the pain, the guilty and be able
to shut my eyes and finally rest.
Because in death, one cannot reach me,
touch me, or make me feel
like I am the most disgusting
ghostly monster that has ever existed.
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