Dear Alive Me

i'm writing you a letter from the dead. 

in the graveyard. 

as a corpse. 

decayed and old, creased at the edges, chapped at the creases. 

i want you to know that it's not worth it,

dying that is. 

it's painful and is more sufferable than being alive. 

it hurts, not because of the physical pain that you put on yourself, 

but because, 

you're in a coffin, 

mutilated and ugly and scarred by your

own 

bloody hands, 

and you hear your family, 

and oh your family!

your friends!

the people who actually give a fuck!

they're here! they're here!

and they're crying. 

you can feel the intensity of their tears hitting and soaking into the ground

your fingers itch to crawl up above the dirt like worms after a spring rain, 

just to caress their face and tell them that everything's going to be fine. 

you didn't need me anyway, 

right?