there is no rhythm to my poems anymore
i've lost touch, lost the skill to manifest these thoughts
perhaps the ability to think
my thoughts have congealed, melted, turned my eyelids from red to pink

it is exhausting
feeling nothing without knowing of apathy
it is like drowning
but you just never sink

i want a movement, baby
i want pain and a heart on the side
letting things go is like watching myself die

living life is not living if it is all for the wait
i want to feel the sun on my bones
feel my soul for a change

when does it get better than this?
never knew myself to be so lazy, tired, stoic, stained
i want to be myself or whoever else for a day
i can't seem to shake this feeling again