No name

I'm made of wants, not can do's.

Little sparkling baubles of joy 

That are hanging just out of reach.

I'm made of wants, not can do's. 

Desires that remain untouched, 

Like bodies under the hands of

A stumbling and uncaring man.

Never quite getting there.

Never completely satisfactory. 

Never listening to guidance.

I'm made of wants, not can do's.

Barriers, unbroken,

Fill my body up

To form a maze between 

The one and the other. 

A maze that I need to traverse,

That I need to run through

(With energy that I do not have),

That I can't climb my way out 

Because the walls keep on growing 

Higher.

I'm made of wants, not can do's.

Wishes and plans for a future

That I do not have my hands on.

That I sometimes fear I need to let go off.

Not that I can release 

The grip of my hands 

Because what if by some miracle I can?

What if nothing becomes something?

I'm made of wants, not can do's. 

I don't want to die, 

But sometimes I want to die.

Because isn't this already like death?

This isn't living.

It isn't sleeping. 

It is not resting.

And it never truly is healing this

Monotony out of me.

I die a little every day,

Rinse, repeat, anew.

I lie in the same bed

Withering away hoping like a fool.

I melt into the surroundings,

Into the seconds,

Into the dreams

That keep me out of the present, 

That make me dissociate,

That make me want, and…

Fuck.

I just want to live.

Have wants that become trying

That become cans that become

New things I didn't know I had in me.

Like the fresh air I know I haven't in me.

I'll be OK with the bare minimum. 

I'll make do if it's more than this stillness.

This unbreaking of things holding me down.

This chaining.

This stasis. 

This carving out of a perfect fit space and

I,

I just want to have the room 

To bleed out.