I feel dead people. Their presence steams as would a boiling kettle without a lid. I just can not see them with my foggy eyes. I feel them sweating me.

What do I do if I've used up all the open vacancies?

There are no more people to use as homes to hide in.

I have to go back into myself, my rooms, my hallways.

Where everything has gathered so much dust.

All curtains have stilled waiting for me to stir them.

I don't remember which doors lead where.

Or if they lead anywhere.

Are they now just ajar, vast caverns into the silence of space?

How much time as passed?

I've lost track.

I have to go back.

But I can't.

I'll sit outside of myself on the steps.

Try not to turn my eyes at the casting shadow

But everything is so,

so,

empty.

And I'm too scared to make it through the doorway.

Check your courage, your humanity, your common decency, your *****, in the cloakroom of pathetic

2. Spend not a nanosecond thinking about how it would feel if it were done to you, reminding yourself how sad, justified, and relieved you feel

3. Debate tween text and email, choose text cause it is shorter, less time consuming, and packs more punch

4. Be proud of your courageous forthrightness in dealing with human problems so directly

5. Immediately (or prior) text all your friends what you have done

6. Make plans for a party so you can begin trolling the field.  Of course not! (invite the ex, that would be cruel)

7. Proceed to smear your ex in person, in secret, to justify how good and kind and used you are and were.  Laser focus on new target person who really turns you on

8. Show around all the ex's break up poems for laughs.

9.  Shampoo and rinse your soul with lye, and repeat, 2 - 3 times a week. If you notice any self improvement, call your doctor immediately!

I don't need you
to solve
all my problems.
I just need you
to not
become one
of them.

Everyone feels broken sometimes
It's easier that way

We want to be broken
Because, if we're broken,
Then  we can be fixed

Right?

Then there's hope
Things can improve

Right?

It's harder to accept
This is just how life is

This misery
This pain
This dying
This is just normal

It doesn't get better
But it deosn't get worse either

They say home is where the heart is
But what if you don't have a heart?
What if you don't have roots or walls or a spine?
What if you have nothing holding you together
And nothing tearing you apart?
What if you're a mere echo of a stray soul stuck in limbo?
A lump of atoms,
A burnt match,
A drifting vagabond,
Naked, lost, and numb in this cosmic paradox
Where satisfaction is but a distant memory