milk is just grass
stupid questions
what's music?
*** is weird
there must be more to life
spider
can i brush your teeth?
i'd smile for you
even though you don't deserve it

tick, tock. tick, tock.

hmm. I want pizza.

tick, tock. tick, tock.

I think I'm going to draw today. Yes, I'll do this.

tick, tock. tick, tock.

oh no

tick,

wait

tock.

i suddenly remember

tick,

i suddenly remember that life has no meaning

tock.

i suddenly remember that we're micro-microscopic

tickk,

microscopic in this universe,

toock.

this universe we know nothing about, and, oh,

tttick,

oh, i'm losing sight of who i am and where i am and why anything in this world matters and oh

ti-tock.

i dont know why my hands are shaking when i dont have a reason to shake them i dont know why i ask myself these questions when i dont have a reason to ask them i dont know why i write this when i dont have a reason to write them and i

tick?

dont know why i try when i dont have a reason to try and i dont know why i dont try when theres every reason to try but is there really and

t...tock.

what is a reason but something i myself conjure up out of little things do these little things really matter what is the quest for life other than a quest to release more happiness chemicals in our brains holding us away from the drug and

t-t-t-t-t-t-tick!

why do i live when theres no reason to live but why should i die when theres no reason to die and why do i lie to myself on a regular basis when theres no reason to hide myself from the truth but is

tatock

it really the truth or is it a lie ive lied to myself so long i cant remember because the only person who believes my lies

tick

is myself

tock

oh. the pizza is done!

tick, tock. tick, tock.

that's nice.

tick, tock. tick, tock.

i might make pizza again sometime

tick, tock. tick, tock.

‘to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier’
i think about death everyday.
frightened by it,
intrigued by it
i cannot escape it.
i have seen what it can do,
an endless hunt after
anything that lives.
constantly wondering when
will i be marked?
when will i
be hunted
by them.
others embrace it.
death to them is a
blessing.
but how can someone see something so
frightening
something so
powerful
how could they see it as
beautiful?
how could they actually
want that?
there is so much to life--
yet so much more to death.
it is said that
how one dies, shows how one
lived.
and that those who run from death
stood still in
life.
what will my death say about me?
what will it say about how i wasted my life
with pools of sparkling tears
and butterflies that once sat in my stomach
pouring out of my mouth?
would people know that i
stood still?
i think about death every single day that i
live.
every day that will pass
every second every minute every
year.
every tear. every breath.
every sight. every look.
every beat of my heart.
every drop of blood coursing through my veins
every word i speak every
thought i think
i will think about death
i will run from death.
wishing that someday i can
embrace the beauty of it.
but until then, (if it ever even comes)
it will continue to be
run run run
chase chase chase
filled with fear and anxiety
waiting for them
as they lurk in the shadows of life
watching, perhaps laughing
at my fear of them at my
racing thoughts of
when why and
how