an insect

today is another violence, when no one can come closer, and it's just, an insect crawling along my skull, these little stings, tapping, losing its guts. so without a hand to tell me, It's okay. Come back. it has always been up to me to survive, and at some point, I swallowed the book of tenses, and I hid away forever. it's a terrible—when you want, just to speak. if i could say something clear: I am not okay. I am scared here. I would like you to come closer. I would like for you to say hello. I would save myself to reach you.

but the insect pulls the strings, and wrenches at my guard.