How To Stay Broken

Wake up. If you can. Or just lie there, blank-eyed, Listening to the ceiling rot. Time is fake. Clocks are arrogant. Let them tick for someone who matters. Forget food. Hunger is just the body begging To feel something. Anything. You know better now. Scroll until your bones rust. Doom is infinite. Your spine will curve to match the screen— A digital prayer To no god in particular. Smile in mirrors, practise the lie. Don't tell anyone you're drowning— They'll only throw you metaphors And say "same" and change the subject. Believe the voice. You know the one. It's not a demon. It's more honest Than your friends. It says: "You're the stain on the X-ray." "You're the scream that didn't echo." "You're the leftover hours." Go outside, maybe. Feel how the sun doesn't notice you. Birds don't sing for you. The grass grows for no one. God doesn't care — why should you? Love no one deeply. They will only try to fix you, Like you are a crooked painting. But this is not art. This is erosion. Pretend you are healing. Make it convincing. Say "I'm okay" like a spell, Then die a little more for telling it. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. This is how you stay sick. This is how you never stop Feeling Like .