I am.

I am quiet
because were I to open my mouth
and let out the sugardemons
crouching behind my teeth,
they would make you cry.

I am tired
because were I to stay awake
for an hour or so more
I’d get even more upset,
and eventually off myself.

I am not hungry
because were I to eat
just a tiny bite
I’d have to claw out my stomach,
and bury it in the snow.

I am cold
because were I to remove my sweater
and bare my skin to the spring
you’d see my pale arms,
and the secrets I inscribe there.

I am busy
because were I to sit and talk with you
you’d see my real face
and then you’d say,
is everything all right?

I am dreaming
because were this to be reality
I’d have nothing left to live for.