undead adoration and the irony of man

"do you believe the runes will open for you?"

i ask myself, hands twisted in the meat of my arms as i clutch onto the remaining tendrils of my will.

as the days tick forward, they bring about an all too new yet all too familiar feeling of absolutely voided nothing. i watch the sun rise and fall out the corners of my eyes with little regard for it movements, only turning to revel in the indistinct whispers of the stars. i watch my existence unfold before me swaying about as though it were fluid, leaking through the creases and cracking of the banister. 

do i wish to be matter materialized or destructed, towering 50ft over my incandescent scrutiny?

i know in mind but not in body