100 words.

i do things that you do not
lick fire off my fingers
pick the lint off my face
i do them every day

watch it burning all my prints
satisfied with the loss
of whatever they told me
i am

peel my skin
to find out how old
i am today

grow and regrow
without end

i am not so old
that i have forgotten

what i might
have forgotten
though i might not remember

the breakdown of
a single
inhale
i count

my last words are these

my last words are always
the same

i do this every day.