I slowly spin,
sadness and wistful dreams swirling around me
as I caress my face.
I want to feel -
I want to bleed -
I want.
Swaying, hands trailing down my neck,
soothing, failing.
My ribs crack open,
my still beating heart dropping to the ground
I can’t breathe -
can’t see.
But I feel:
contemptuous, hateful, inadequate,
all these rising up in and against me.
Because I want -
because I can’t stop wanting.