No Entry 

In the gray hush before dawn, 

I wake already drowning. 

already exhausted,

as if I spent the night

dragging a mountain

through my dreams.

 

The air is thick like soup,

sometimes I have to remember 

to breathe.

 

My limbs are borrowed 

from a stranger—

heavy, disobedient, 

aching with the effort

of simply existing. 

 

I stare at the ceiling

until the cracks 

become maps to nowhere.

 

Outside, 

the world keeps its frantic pulse:

cars, 

voices, 

laughter like knives.

 

I pull the duvet higher.

 

Food tastes of cardboard.

I chew, 

swallow, 

forget.

 

The last of my friends text; 

I watch the screen glow

and let it die. 

Their words slide off me

like rain on oil. 

 

I am a room

no one enters anymore,

not even myself.

 

Thoughts circle like vultures:

You are a burden. 

You are broken.

You have always been this way.

 

They peck at the soft parts until

nothing feels real 

except the pain 

an endless pain

behind the eyes

a whisper that says 

the darkness 

is kinder.

 

I stand at the edge 

of the bridge in my mind,

wind whipping my coat 

like impatient hands.

 

Below, the water promises silence,

an end to the static in my head,

an end to the weight,

and the endless 

replay of every failure.

 

I carry wet cement and rocks

in my pockets.

One step.

Just one.

The railing is cold, 

solid, honest.

 

My heart hammers—yes, yes, finally—

while the rest of me 

screams stay,

but the scream is so small now,

a small child’s voice 

lost in a storm.

 

I lean forward.

The city lights blur into stars.

For the first time in years

I suddenly feel light.

 

And still I hesitate,

clinging to this ruin of a life

because even the nothing

frightens me.

 

I do not want death.

 

I want relief.

 

I want one breath

that doesn’t feel borrowed.

 

I want one day

without 

carrying 

this 

pain.

 

Jonah Libertine Gill

©️Libertine13

20/06/2026