I guess I’m writing again… my grammar sucks, so don’t judge me.
The none sense.
The draining of hearts. The beat beat beat and patter of sulfate existence running through veins of acid wash. Hurtful convictions and selfish ideals make the world one big correctional facility. Through this, I will not die, I will exist, but only in times when the sun decides to shine upon me. The moon brings traces of memories that I wished only to forget. I realize through dejavu that I have been here before in this exact low position. It’s as if the grass and dirt are growing on top of me and I wish that I could have been buried, but here I am alive, alive with the traces of you, of me, lingering on my clothes on my town. I wish you would have left when you were suppose to. I wish that you would leave now, forever.
I lie in this bed not moving in hope the universe will forget about me. My lack of motion will send nothing out and I will feel for once in my life nothing, no heavy stresses no emotions no thoughts, no perpetual moving that weigh so heavy upon me that I sink lower than concrete, and the only thing that I can feel is footprints of business women in high heels click on my back. I am a concave a beginning of a black hole and lord it feels so good. I like to think that I am not important, maybe we spend so much of our lives wanting to be important, hoping to be something to become something, this something is a lot of busy work. It’s encroaching upon the soul, maybe if we stopped trying we would just become.
(This is suppose to be read aloud so in the head voice it sounds kinda funny. that’s all. )