a breath, like an echo. my chest rises and falls in the lonesome dark. nothing but the soft hum of my electric abacus to keep my attention. the darkened corners pumping out shadows only one's soul could truly feel. i sit alone, my space filled with my thoughts of you and yesterday. I'm tired of this solemn place, forever sparse, my memories slowly choking me dry and instead of fighting or struggling or breathing real progress, my eyes get heavy and i just end up sleeping. these walls are blank now, the love that coated them crumbled away such a long while ago, like old paint. cracking and peeling. now their just stained an ugly yellow and *****. sickly looking, i suspect, much like my insides.

light peaks through the my dusty curtains now, but this is not the light of hope or change. its bleak and hollow. when felt, it has no warmth. its only purpose is to taunt and trick the fools who dream of the sun.