This torn portrait was out of focus. So focus on setting the clock back to before you were born and enjoy being nothing when you can’t cast a shadow; where nothing is absent, your absence is nothing. Our existence is the same way, experiences we borrow. This is just a very long boring dream. It cause the conundrum: wake me up or kill me. Can you help me finally?
“you won’t try just enough to get by, half-assed, not worth our fucking time, just enough, that’s how you live your life, blood, sweat, we put everything in this, won’t let you ride our coattails anymore, you won’t ride anymore, along for the ride”
The faith in me runs thinner then the water rising to my eyebrows, slowly but surely I am drowning in the wistful body I call my own. New days bring new dreams to their knees, searching for something, nothing, anything. Hands clenched together in praise while the rhythm pulls away. There are no walls that can hold this. There is no voice that can save my soul. There are no words that can breathe life into the worthless skin and bones I have grown to call my home.