Seppuku

I’ve reached the point where I should feel something
all I can do is scream your name in silence.
Can’t draw attention from the microscope
stuck again in a place I find very much like home.

Between a rock and a hard place
might as well crawl back under the rock.
I’ve grown accustom to the pressure
feels almost soothing.

Like that glorious feeling of having a knife plunged into your chest
or one pulled out of the spine.
I can’t even feel my own hands around my throat
or your hands jerking my heart out.

It’s everyday
It’s every breath
can’t show it
hide it.

Til the eruption
then everyone asks why.
Without really caring
ah, there’s that familiar sting in my chest.

Wait a minute.
It’s my hand ahold of the hilt this time.
My whole life just a figment of my own imagination.

It has to be
no one longs to be this down.
Amongst the worms and leeches sucking me dry
maybe I’ll get lucky for a change.

And not wake up
doubt it.
That would be too much like relief
and I can’t have that.