"there isn't anything out there for me," he thought.

a rather less-than detailed description of what some may say, a contemptuous observation.

erasing sentences that weren't worded properly,
or didn't make much sense.

"I value the life I consume," he lied.

in other words, I've run out of ambition
no longer am I able to lie to others to make my life meaningful to them.

It's that lack of that melts flesh from bone.

"Shang, I miss you," he read.

as if the **** drawing
were her.
skin flushed,
an inconceivable silence
only for my mind to take in.

the silence is now nothing short of uninviting.

all the while,
I continue searching
for something..
something not all too satisfying.