living

i have become desperate

for the one thing

made not for me

an impossible reality

dependent solely on

the fantasy of home

and ecstatic safety

a fictional presence of guidance

protection is a ruse

and to be wanted is to be lied to

the only truth i have ever known

is my own rotted mouth

the sickness of my body

and that time rips even the innocent apart

we all get spit on before we die