I.
Salt on my tongue,
not from the sea—
two tablespoons
of what I couldn\'t say.
Water,
enough to wash
the weight away.
II.
I sit here, relapsed,
rethinking every setback.
As rationalism disappears,
the razor\'s purpose changes.
III.
Wanting to be someone of worth.
Impatience makes me realize
how far away
I shouted.
IV.
So I cut the blue hair,
and it all becomes purple.
My vision darkens so much,
I see light.
V.
Regretting
as everything slows down,
my thoughts grow distant,
until everything\'s silent.