exhalants

i was disgusting and fragile like the glass sky, a tiny thing with bruised hips and battered wrists i dug holes in the ocean and fractured the sunlight, the moonlight collapsed one night and the sun was gone, gone just like that, and that was the end of that on occasion i would laugh and try to crawl out of the box i made and supply myself with food and oxygen, that was every once and a while one day the oxygen just disappeared (and maybe i was tired of breathing) and one day the sun came back again and three people were burned alive, devoured by the light and the heat – all of it, so i cowered and dug a hole one day i tried to be

 it is gone: it is now all gone and you decide to give yourself to the sadness that does not betray you. because the sadness was always attached to your rib cage. it does not stubbornly bruise like the non-sadness. (the non-sadness i will not and do not know how to name. i do not want to name the non-sadness because it is sadness itself.)  they are screaming. you are standing and you have a wire twisted around your neck. they are trembling under the table, silently leading and shaking and convincing to untwist that wire around your neck. that thin little wire that will leave a red imprint on your skin and threaten them with, and you will