Sleep deprived me wanted to write poetry

So much dreaming I've tired myself by the time I finish brushing my teeth.

Oh what a drudgery, this life and its endless time. And what a joy, I curse its addictive aftertaste, intoxicate myself of the maple syrup sweetness, the unfurled sunset clouds, the rain mist catching moonlight, the scattered stars lacing my lashes, the cat fur coating my fingertips, drink the sky and sew my rotting ribcage with emptiness, boundlessness, taste my dissolution and drown in the molasses.

Unspool your neurons, the ones that jitter and throb, and line them with flower petals, kiss each once thrice, dear i'd like your headspace softer than moss tufts. I'd drench it sickly sweet darling. darling I don't think I love you is enough.

My dear, lovely one who I cannot speak these names to, that first paragraph is not yours to read. Sweetheart I don't think my chapped peeling lips that are bleeding bruised and picked at with nails constantly clipped past red flesh, red skin, bumps and marks and unkempt hair will hide themselves. will my words be enough for you, darling? no. no I know, known

For me I'll ask the universe to hook a thin pointed limb beneath my topmost stitch and tug. Unravel me so I spill my contents, bleeding heart pulsating on the kitchen table, messy, oh so very messy and disgusting and maybe worth something here, like this.

I do not wish your pity. Please don't look at me like that. I wish not your suffering, but to be acknowledged in this way… (it is wrong it is wrong it is wrong)

You who are wondrous please listen. I am not sad. Blanketed by apathy but understand, I love this. This. Love and nothing wanted. Drink the endlessness and have it consume me thrice, dissolve and be dissolved within, sweetness clogging my throat full, heart full of blossoms as they burst. If I ignored the pretense of longing, wanting, if asked, 'understand my corners and crevasses until there is no me to be found', it would be senseless, and there, that senselessness means nothing. Means everything to me, for me, only me, none of me. This is where I am, how i am. Utterly molded within the raindrop's gel and desperate for moss to claim the soft flesh behind my eyes.

yeahhh this makes no sense time to sleeeeppp.

people what do we call this. if I think it's ugly I'm deleting it.