I can't deal with this suspension
animated friction, frozen for the meantime
within the imaginary societal lines.
Sustenance within intimacy,
hangs in fragmented impermanence
as a reminder to us all
we are all victims of the human condition.

Even with memories etched within
aged smile lines, or experience
burned across cataract eyes, we cannot escape
no matter how we may try
the barrier concrete- our human mind.

In death, we struggle with our
own feeble understanding,
we lack the ability of total comprehending.

We enter this world,
soft, vulnerable- exposed
we exit this world,
in paper thin skin
stretched over fragile bones.

Regardless of the connections
we may form as we grow
we come as we go,
are born, and in likeness die,

alone.

Instead of counting sheep,

I'm counting all of the sleepless nights

I'm alone with my bleeding heart

and aching feet.

and all of the mornings, where I

wake up and I can't breathe

where the sun streams in through my window panes

and I can't bear the stifling inferno of my own sheets.

I'm drowning inside, and I'm burning all over

and I can't stop.

I'm slowly wasting away.

I'm only breathing just to prove I can live another day.