My eyes; screaming at you, hoping you can hear them or understand them, hoping you wont ignor them while they call out for you, hoping you can hear them spill out everything my tounge kept locked away. But thats all they're doing now. Just hoping and pleading. Still begging for yours.

Across from me is you. My eye's could never be so lucky. We sit here, with small talk on our tounges.

Earthquakes and airplanes collide all at once and we go down to our knees in defeat. What a shame it is.

The pillow sits there on the bed and awaits our company again.

Don't talk to the wall's they can't talk back, atleast the window's whistle and creek.

I take a breath and look at this blank page. A page that isn't so blank after all. Fore the white piece of lonesome paper has so much emotion in it. I then realize that im not looking at a piece of paper at all, im just looking at my reflection. So I pick up this pen and I write. I write until the sky turns from blue to black and then to grey. When the sun peers through the clouds and into my window, I then realize that I wasn't writing at all. All I was doing was breathing and that's why im so out of breath. With this realization, I walk into my bedroom, I lay in my bed and throw the blankets over me, just like a little kid hiding from his own shadow. I feel safe. I then realize that the shadow i've been hiding from is under the blankets with me. I then realize that, that monster is only myself. The only thing left to run to is the person I once was, but you've tooken that. So I guess, at the end of it all. The last thought before the end just leads back to you. But where will I run to?

We talk, but only in my dreams and when i awake in the morning i wonder if maybe you might of actually been there, but when i've blinked my way to the surface and realize that im laying there alone and have been since I first layed down alone, you were never really there and havn't been for what feels like centuries. Disappointment and a mixture of anger sink's and I rush out of this bed that once held you. When i've clawed my way out of the grave of nights filled with what now is a ghost, I look around the room and replays upon replays flow through and out into the open like a 1920's projecture. After being glued down to this floor by the sea of memories trying to take me down, I walk out the door and when I do, the oceans spray hits me like your hair did when we hit the bed and for a minute, I feel you, all over me, every inch, like grapevines on a forgotten building, take over what's left. But I rip through it all cause I don't like to be broken down. I head up the staires and fall because your voice keeps calling me, pulling me back, climbing up to my shoulders and pushing me down as if my legs are slowly disinigrating. As I lay there, in defeat, every inch of my body is tooken over by the feel of you, your voice, your touch, your smell, your taste, your ghost. And while I talk to you in my thoughts you louer me in, word by word, inch by inch. I'm sailing away, back into you, away from myself, in a sea of defeat. As I sail closer and closer to you, the wind picks up and steals everything. The voice, the touch, the smell, the taste, my sense of direction. It steals all from me and leaves me in the sea to fend for myself. As I float, the waves grow higher and higher and take me down under. As I get pushed down, farther and farther by the pressure of the unknown, I start to give up and realize there's really no need to fight because theres nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. Nothing. So, as this scene comes to an end and I hit the ocean floor, I then look up and see that everything's come to a rest and all is calm, I then look up and see the world. The world in which doesn't involve me. A world in which doesn't realize where i am nor does it care. A world in which was mine. A world in which is you.

(c)SeanaseaWallen 2010