I die each time I **** you

I want to see you burn with me

I wanted to write tonight
to maybe say something beautiful
or something soulful
maybe even passionate

I wanted to captivate somebody with my story
with my words
the way that I could say something

I wanted to give meaning to my ongoing thoughts
maybe some beauty too
but my heart feels really empty
I feel empty overall
I guess my soul doesn't feel all that alive

I am alive and that's it
it doesn't count for much

maybe I thought that writing could be the spark to light my fire again
I wanted it to be the surface that I would strike my one and only matchstick against
but I keep striking it
and striking it
and it's just started to look damaged

living is useless
-
what's the use of being good
when we don't exist anymore

I wish I could watch every moment of my life so far like a movie

I mean, I don't know what good that would do but I don't have a purpose for this
I just want to see things that I could not remember

I want more depth
I want to see things
and chew on them
I want answers
I just want to see



I guess I do have a purpose for this

I listened to strange music at the back of my history class when I was 12 and now I'm brain damaged

She is very much alive
and the only thing that occupies her mind is how much she doesn't want to be

- - -
she knows that this thought is wrong
but all she cares about is her beautiful energy
it's lost
somewhere in the ether

- -
she is starting to accept her fate
but living is strange to her

-
she is alive