What do I do when I don’t want to do it anymore?

I panic

feel my body crackle and pop 

with dissatisfaction 

like coco puffs in warm milk

soggy and neglected for too long

I get destructive

sawing at the floor beneath my feet 

falling through, emerging with injuries

more justification for my dejected collapse

another bad thing that happened to me

my physical pain intensifies

offshoots of nerves

byproducts of overexerted muscles

playing hopscotch in wet mud

suctions my feet until collapse

exhaustion envelopes me

making me sink into my spine 

retreat into the mind 

losing the finely honed ability to fake a smile

everything gets lost in the mail

because the sorting room broke down again

When I don't want to do it anymore 

I snap at everyone

like a crocodile in dirty water 

their hands reach out hesitantly

I refuse them 

rolling with my captured wounds 

until they are  exhausted and cannot heal

I don't want solutions

I don't want bright sides

or ‘on the other hand…’

or ‘if you think about it…’

or silver linings. 

I can’t talk away this existential dread

What should I do? 

because everything that normally cheers me up

only adds black ink to this watery mood 

it can’t reverse

the dark puddle I have become. 

When I don't want to do it anymore 

and everything else has failed me 

God knows that my puddle 

needs a bright yellow boot to splash in it

to wake me out of my

stagnant, poisoned well

I am suddenly awoken by the world 

a sensory storm arrives just in time

trees and birds are whipping through the winds of the sky 

I grab a branch and walk through 

the last few blessed green lands 

not yet overtaken

When I don't want to do it anymore 

every moment feels too big

so God reminds me I am small

I am a part of the world 

not its entirety 

I am 

a leaf that sways below branches

a raindrop that dissolves into the earth

a breath that lingers in the lungs of a bird

a blink of an owl’s eye 

a grass fly in a swarm 

a beep in heavy traffic 

a window in a city of buildings

a synapse in the body

a full stop in a book in a library 

a temporary thing with a fear of forever.