All the words in my head bubble to the surface,
thick black goop, a mess of words of no real use,
they just hover, linger and ooze.
Cold night, fist fight, darker shades of blue,
Closed doors, corridors, I don't live here anymore.
A house of stone and words of glass we throw to waste our time,
Monday news, funeral shoes, let's do another line.
She won't come back, heart attack at the age of forty-nine,
Cross-dressers, gloomy weather, valentine be mine.
Closed doors, corridors, I think I've lost my mind.
Closed doors, corridors, I don't live here anymore.

I don't want to feel ok,
Ok is a lie when I see wars on tv and I just watched children die.
Please don't be ok,
Please don't let this be ok.  
Don't let a false sense of security become an excuse for apathy.

I'll meet you in Paris and we'll talk about the weather.
It's just small talk though-- something to fill the silence,
you'd think we'd know better.

For me to be alive I must eat.
For me to eat, things have to die,
And for what?--
An existence I can't even justify.

I am a crumbling doll of ash in a city of paper...

I stare at the LED screen, it's been a few hours.
I can start to feel that hum of the light and vibrations of thoughts behind my eyes, telltale signs of not blinking for too long.

I sit slouched on my bed, bent over my laptop immersed in another world-- one of ideas and electrical signals.

50 year old me will look back on these days, I'll probably regret my poor posture, poor diet and bulimic tendencies.

I am a product of my generation, addicted to any escape mechanism to which I can cling, God knows there's tons of viable outlets.

I can talk to strangers online and pretend I'm important. I can play games like living another life, I can do drugs, have lots of *** and immerse myself in the complications of relationships.  I can develop an eating disorder and immerse myself in the depths of that nightmare; anything to avoid the even bigger nightmare which is life, which is truth.

I choose not to wake up.
world of war craft-- not wars and bombings in far away countries.
Strangers online--not my ****** up family problems.
Celebrity Instagram-- not politicians and corruption.
Selfies-- not self worth.
I choose not to wake up.

There were so many words we could've exchanged so naturally we sat in silence. Our minds loud enough to drown the need for conversation.