hello? can you hear me?
i’ve been meaning to say something
even if the signal’s not pretty.
i don’t think i can do this anymore.
i’ve grown tired of the city
where my screams tend to evade me,
my confessional streams
poured all over the polished floors
until i ran out of dreams-
i need a getaway across the seas;
somewhere deep in the country
where i can still feel a breeze;
a breath of dying somewhere pretty
as if i carelessly ripped out a page
out of my half-written biography
that takes up too much of my head
until they all cooperate to collaborate
into my nameless anthology
but how can i craft such a thing
when i’m not even dead?