Not For Lack of Trying

What can I say to you monsters?

Who could I possibly save?
I am submerged and anyone that I pull to me will die.
Save yourselves? You can’t.
You can’t.

Can I feel love when all I see are corpses?

Can I sow when everywhere else, the order is ice and stone?
Is it a miracle that I exist?
I am here because something needs to feel this way.
There is something here because there must be.

I read you – it feels like love.

I see you – it feels like love.
I love you like I love everything that ever hurt me.
Love is all I can feel.
How can I feel anything else?
Nothing can touch me. Not even you.

I am saved from being alive. I am already dead, death cannot frighten me.
Nothing can convince me to forsake my death.
Nothing will pull me from this tomb.
I see with lifeless eyes, feel with dead skin.
My heart is tucked far away from these gusts,
And it wouldn’t hurt to pluck it out.
It wouldn’t hurt to eat it.
I feel no pain.
I have never felt pain.

What touches me can’t seem to get into me.

(Not for lack of trying.)