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I watch everything in my life happen at a distance.
I'm involved, but I'm never the centre of it.
Watching a car crash in slow motion, and watching the shards of glass clatter to the pavement.
All of the sirens in the world couldn't awake me from this trance, especially not as I stand in the rain and feel the drops trace soft lines down my face.
I wouldn't mind drowning in the sky's teardrops tonight.
The stars aren't any comfort to me anymore, and the sunsets bring me nothing other than a reminder of the darkness that will shortly occur.
I can no longer romanticize the sky, or any of its contents, aside from the moon.
Half an hour in the darkness seems to casually dance away from me as I look at the vast expanse of a ceiling above me.
I don't want to live past 40, and I never want to see the sun rise on my 41st birthday.
I want to be remembered as a wild and free hardcore teenager, not a flesh-suit on a deathbed.
Collecting air isn't something I want to be remembered for, but it is what I feel as though I do every single day.
I feel like I don't deserve to have a pulse most days.
When the weather cools down, so does my mind and my ambitions.
What does apathy matter when you can't do anything anyway?
Unearth me from my self-dug grave and let me walk in the warm summer sun to remind me what the human condition should be, rather than being holed up in a hovel of an attic watching the rain slide down my sloping windows.
Numbness is a worse pain than death, because it leaves you craving to feel anything at all.
My mind is in a permanent state of kenopsia. What once sprawled with a purpose and love of things, has decayed into rubble with dessicated plants in its wake.
My imagination is on life support, and wheezes with uncertainty.
I posed a question to the void, and it answered me, but not in the ways that I'd thought it would. It screamed to me that kairosclerosis is the new deadly sin, and nodus tollens will be my end.
Leave me in the rain for a few minutes longer, as I aim to feel something other than a lovers touch on my skin.
Watch me breathe slowly and calmly as the world goes up in fireworks, cheap vodka and spent gunpowder.
I will watch it dissolve, seep through my hands, as I usually do.
Because all I am to everyone is an observer.
I will sit 'neath the fights and the drama, dodge all the bullets and make it out alive only to be choked by my own self doubt.
I know I'm not God, because if I was, I'd find it even harder to live with myself than I already do.
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xoxofaldu
oml this is so beautiful, i love all of your works