Blue blood in a life of leisure



Sometimes I press my forefinger into the soft, underneath of my forearm

The milky white flesh is lined with blue

peeking through the translucent blanket


I find my pulse along its trails so I can feel my body keeping itself alive

when my thoughts are focused on the opposite

My skin veils these unacceptable manifestations of apathy and my mouth even moreso

It curls into a tight smile, my lips taught around the corners

Forced and tired

I am weathered by the front I feel inclined to put up

but I need to keep others safe from my selfish pessimism

Being a burden is so loathsome

and I cannot bear to be as much of a burden to others as I am to myself

This weight is a burden and I do not want pity


This is an ailment not cured by medication, but rather subdued

And while I cannot bear to reveal its presence to others

I cannot bear to mute myself and soften the blue in my arm and the pulse in my veins

Despite this lingering, selfish pessimism

I am optimistic that my flesh will no longer have to be the embodiment of an apathetic and indifferent being

and instead will be the home to a feverous pulse and warm blood


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