Feel

  Anything to feel anything;

  Bite me, bruise me, break me, make me bleed,

  Curse me, cure my

  Defunct mind. Blurred lines

  Etched in discriminating exactitude upon my curiously numb

  Frontal lobe force me to seek something; fight me, fuck me,

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Gyrate upon me, gaslight and gut me, don’t pretend you want to

  Help me.

  I wouldn’t do that to you.

  Joke with your heart.

  Kink your throat like a hose,

  Laugh as your larynx fails to

  Make any sound that might save you. I’d do anything to feel

  Nothing. Numb. Nurtured. Nervous that

  Organic foods and paper bags won’t heal this dying

  Planet: really, I’d do anything to care. To read of Plato’s

  Questions and to give a damn like I’m sure I once did.

  Reminiscing: there was a time. I remember. Walks to the bus stop,

  Staring up at the sky, marveling at the clouds,

  Taking time to take it all in.

  Unashamed to experience. Not yet convinced of underserving. Not yet

  Vexed by a lack of silence, yoked by callous violence,

  Whetted to suffer, to recover, to discover meaning in molly,

  X, blow, sex, pain. Pining for lost

  Years, for failed love, for trips to

  Zion and Sequioa and Catalina with you.