Days when I feel I’ll fail the test of time, wasn’t given a study guide, showed up to class naked. My existence a deep purpling bruise.
I whittle and hone, yearning to disappear. A pile of sawdust beneath the pencil sharpener caught and swirled by ambient breeze.
Unable to erase what we've done. Keep tearing the page. An ugly folding thing, the marks are still there. Evidence.
You sit in the pit of my stomach and take up valuable space. I've been trying to vomit you up, but you won’t go. Saliva flowing salty in my mouth, I can't stop swallowing. There isn't enough air. I didn’t ask for you.