Silently, "I need to tell you something."
I approach. Falter, walk away.
I need to break this bond I have with silence,
This unhealthy affair I have with solitude.
I haven't even the energy to pull the words up from my stomach.
I heave,
Retching out nothing but bile and air.
I have so many things to say,
Passing fruitlessly through the space between my ears.
Speaking of space, that seams to be where I exist.
It's either that, or this is Purgatory.
Hell.
Too much conscience to be clinically depressed,
Too far gone to be "normal",
Nothingness.
"This is what it feels like to be a ghost."
To no one, again.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Silently, "I need to tell you something."
I approach. Falter, walk away.
I need to break this bond I have with silence,
This unhealthy affair I have with solitude.
I haven't even the energy to pull the words up from my stomach.
I heave,
Retching out nothing but bile and air.
I have so many things to say,
Passing fruitlessly through the space between my ears.
Speaking of space, that seams to be where I exist.
It's either that, or this is Purgatory.
Hell.
Too much conscience to be clinically depressed,
Too far gone to be "normal",
Nothingness.
"This is what it feels like to be a ghost."
To no one, again.
