Fragmentary Principle

I don’t want to die
        not really
most of the time the instinct to survive keeps me alive
    but I feel like I am dead already
my heart no longer counts the beats
to the funerary ballad my lungs are composing
my breasts no longer sing
my veins are desiccated
a soft film covers my eyes
    vignette at dusk
my shoulders are calloused
from months of heavy lifting
    years fermenting in the yard
and a crack in my spine from one too many
my legs carry my weight
    if there’s any left of it
but they don’t know where they’re going
and my feet have lost all sense of direction
there’s a metaphor in here somewhere
my cheeks rustle like paper through autumn
    and through the uncomfortable grain of spring
at the edge of it all there it sits:
    one tiny hairline fracture
    cleave me open at dawn
my stomach is a rotten pomegranate
    left in the damp too long
my small intestines are sunburnt
entangled in the decomposing pulp of my liver
ruined by decades of medications
    cycle after unstable cycle
and I have to ask myself:
    is this really a life worth living?

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