Jaded
Hated
Nauseated

Nothing, nothing, nothing
I am nothing!
Dammit.

Am I truly defined by this suffering?

Maybe to the divine, the loving.

Someone once asked if I remember my dreams.
Well I don’t know, it seems
as though when I dream, I overflow
with salt and snow
It melts in my chest
and freezes over because cold is what I know best.

So I go

and I run.

I run until I lose track of where I’d begun,
Stare intently at the sun, the god of no preacher or nun

My God.

Because to the divine, the loving

I am nothing.

I am jaded
hated
nauseated
and defined by my suffering.

A word to the wise,
when you happen across bitter eyes,
Stop and apologize.