Nothing should matter. I sever anything that leads back to myself and I would combust if they let me. They hold me too tight. Everything stops for a reason. It’s stops and goes and stops again and I want to catch everything before it stops, but I can’t stop time. Why should I care about the things that never cared about me? I was born with an aching heart and words that wrap around my lips like a curse. I say them back to myself like a spell until I spell my name backwards and forward to forget about the parts of me I want to bury. Causing arson in my mind until the smoke leaks from my pours- now I smell like ashes and I feel tired from suffocating in my own self. If I told you my skin was made of thorns, would you still trust me? I’m blooming in dark corners where the sun never stays. I don’t care like I used to. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. Feel the embers rise and I am higher than them. Displaced across the ruins. I gave into it all. Open palms that no longer make fists. As if nothing mattered. -AMT