I am more afraid of aging than I am of death
The process of dying does not begin when you develop a heart problem
or when you lose your ability to walk
The process of aging and the process of dying are the same
Once you hit thirty five your body begins to destroy itself
First your pigment stops working
resulting in grey hair and pale skin
Then the muscles in your face begin to weaken
and your skin fills with folds.
The next thing you know your skin is paper
and your bones are glass
and you must be careful about everything
and that is not living at all.
Aging and dying are one in the same

The sky and the ocean were once lovers
Before the skies were darkened with grey chemicals
and before the seas were tainted with the haze of waste
They touched only at the horizon
but it was enough because the sky could always gaze down upon the waves
and the ocean's waves could always reflect the stars
and silver springs
that spread
like blood vessels
on the earth's surface
were always clear in sunlight
When man came
The ocean was gutted of its fish
The skies were corrupted by a constant haze of black smoke
it became so thick that the sun lost sight of the seas
and from then on the sky sent winds barreling across the ocean's surface, to try and clear the pollution
The winds tipped ships and took lives
and now these three things
man sky and sea
are forever caught in a vicious cycle
all killing one another
when all they need to do
is be aware of one another's presence

I hold my happiness every morning in the palm of my hand
I swallow it one by one
Washed down with tap water
Feeling it make its way into my system
Taking chemicals through my bloodstream
Helping me to see things a little better.
My happiness comes in the form of five little pills every morning.
Colorful, white, dark
Capsules, tablets
I hold my happiness every morning in the palm of my hand

We're only bones
A skeleton, a shell
engineered
to walk
run
sit
stand
And our hearts
they're only cardiac tissue
and
chambers with
valves to pump blood
through our arteries and veins
which are only pipes to carry nutrients
everywhere else.
Our eyes are only apertures
with which we can distinguish over
ten million colors
We are scientifically perfect machines
Built to last, built to survive
to reproduce
to die.
So how do we explain everything else?
The purpose of someone's eyes is not to make you fall in love with their beholder.
The purpose of the heart is not to create a lullaby for your lover to fall asleep to.
The purpose of our bodies is not to be a haven for another person's soul.
And
yet
they
are.

Sometimes the conversations held with ourselves in front of mirrors
are the only ones with meaning.

For when it is only you and your reflection,
the only words worth saying are spoken.