To Be Or...?

To be. Of course, to be.

I have no desire to unravel

My mortal coil

Because I know what dreams may come

And they make me want to stay awake.

Yet I am loathe to bear these ills.

Ever do I fly to new ills, praying

New joys await as well.

I am a gull seeking green

But finding only endless sea and sand.

This life is not my own.

It belongs to the thousand natural shocks

My flesh is heir to.

It belongs to you and he and they.

And I draw you all in.

And you eat my insides.

And I delight in the torture.

Because when you’re done, I’ll be free.

Empty.

Myself.