I’m most alive when I choose to die
Left translucent and skinless
Breathing and being
But never feeling
Sealing life within a corpse
Rotless, miserable death
To tease, to please, but never to commit
Forever dead
I easily stuff myself in boxes,
Folding away my soul into little cubes and settling
Clothes into baskets and cups into plastic
Wrapping breaths into foil and unraveling my nails
Retracting blood from my veins and collecting
Ashes and mattresses to be placed in storages
Tossing trinkets and memories because they weren’t
Expensive enough to trace or too substantial to want
You say what is important because a house is a building
And a home rests behind my breast, inside my chest
A little dead bird burrowed too deeply into my heart
Clipped wings reminiscent of yesterday being perpetual
But if anything is endless it’s this transient existence
Slinging my body, my belongings, my security
Around and around because it isn’t so significant
And if I should falter, if I should fall dead on this floor
In a week we’d leave and it wouldn’t be ours
Fold away my soul and I enclose almost homes in envelopes
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