Tired fantasies

Content warning

As the chill autumn wind begin caressing my trunk,
I gently rest my hands on my cleavage and sigh.
I fantasize about using adenosine to halt my heart,
To drown and fall through the misty abyss and
Cracking two hundred and six bones
Crashing and crushing that brittle and fragile skull
Exposing that red plush and dark, maroon, blood.

I still dream about sleep—death—tranquility
Because subconsciously what lingers
Is the narrative that death is peace
That living is bloodshed and agony
That sleep is a ceasefire while death is an armistice.

I was, I am, making every effort, to resist that
Faint muffled smell serenity temptingly promised.
I’d like to leave no epilogue and
Erase those revolting footprints and memories
Somehow attributed to me.

Mortality yields immortality, I thought.

Poems by Runxi Yu