breathe // short stories

one. torment.

In pieces of myself that I find lying on the mirror-like floor
I sometimes wish to discover something that would be worth picking up.
If only there's a shard, carrying something more than infinite emptiness
Maybe then, just for a little bit
Wandering without being able to find a place I could call my own, won't feel as miserable.
Before this, there was happiness
And there was laughter without a reason.
All lost along the way to something greater.
Define purpose.
I keep walking on these shards as they slowly sink in my bare naked feet and it no longer feels like anything.
They bleed
Slowly, this dark – almost purple liquid drowns the strings of my thoughts.
I am the spider,
My web floats above the red water like a lonely boat.
Detached.
I will name my boat „detached" because it has no home.
This is already the third cigarette in the past half an hour.
I see you, in the cloud of white smoke, so alive, so pretty it seems impossible,
Reach out for me.
I can't.
I have no hands, no body, no soul.
The smoke turns into a rope, then it's a noose
And one second I'm breathing and then I'm not,
But you're alive, you're smiling, you're mine, mine alone in that messy cloud and
I want to touch you, hold you, swallow you whole, until you become my hands, my body, my soul, my purpose, my laughter without a reason.
I'm so cold,
Pieces of me all over the floor
I'm no longer bleeding, there's nothing to bleed from
I am the night.
So cold, so cold, so cold.
My fingers are matches,
A spark, gentle snap, one fingertip brushing against the other
Cell against cell,
Before I know it my lungs are full of smoke, I'm burning.
Don't cry anymore,
Give them to me, your tears
In a cup of morning coffee
Let me breathe again.
Let me in
Let me out
Let me end
Everything
Let me end
Me.
I beg you.