you have nothing worth living for.

holding a dream in the palm of your hand,
holding onto hope.
it seems worth it until
your heart slows,
your vision fogs,
your mind clouds;
you stop.

it’s not that you don’t have the time,
it’s not that you don’t have the energy.
your throat is gasping for fresh air,
your eyes for sunlight.
but nothing seems to be getting through,
like a translucent veil blurring the world around.
sheets of white –
no colors, no feelings,
just stillness.

soon laying in bed feels like
what you’ve been doing forever.
crying is a natural state.
not feeling
is a condition of your being.

and you stop forever.