D U N

 A taxi almost ran over me and I just wanted him to. I wanted to get into a fight, I wanted to smash his windows and hit him until he couldn't do anything anymore. I wished his love death and cycled further. I had already been holding back the tears, I kept doing so.  Your stress your stress your stress. I want to kill someone with my bare hands, I hate myself. I want to die.  As I sit in front of the Volksbühne (they/them) I imagine how I'd murder him, matándolo con mis propios puños y dientes. Veo sus lentes rotos, su cara de dolor, de desconcierto. Veo su sangre en mis manos, sus dientes rotos contra el pavimento. Lo sigo golpeando hasta que veo su terror, sólo entonces despierto a ver qué hice y me doy cuenta de lo que estoy haciendo. Y ahí viene la culpa, me envuelve y ahoga, me agarra y golpea tanto como imaginé hacerlo yo, sangro invisible, mi alma duele. Loneliness is hard and it feels unimportant against life in this place, just because I'm quiet when I'm there...