I'm ****** like sensuazonia, yet a moral in my own right. Well, to be honest, I don't feel like it. i feel like I'm empty inside, growing more and more so each day. But why? Is there some kind of escape route? Is there some way that I can get away from it? It's consuming my soul at such a rapid pace that even my sprinting soul can't escape like marathon, I must endure like a prisoner of war until my savior arrives, but I don't feel like I have salvation imminent, I feel like I've been stuck in the box so long that I've become it, and now removing that bond with my captivity is harder to break as I rip the cardboard from around me and break the flimsy ***** that keep me pinned in this location for the longest. Where the heck should I go? What the hell should I do? You see, this is what arrives in my mind each time I start my breathing at its regular pace. But then again, what else is there to think about? I could think about the past, but where would that get me? Where would I possible be able to traverse that I haven't traversed when I was experiencing it as present. I miss the past and its people... it's past me, the me that though unwhole, was content with what, and who, he had. I'm alone in the world that I created, how's that for Irony? I can feel the pressure of those wishing to detach me from my reality, their arms reach far, wrapping around my waist in an embrace meant for lovers, but pulling so savagely that I'm forced to do naught but succumb. Hell no, I have to fight, that's who and what I am, but alas, My vent ends now. Brain running drier that the desert's air, dustier than the abyss known as desert sands. I feel empty and now with my words gone, the feeling is even worse.
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