(no subject)
This feeling’s familiar, I’ve been here before; in a kitchen this quiet, i waited for a sign, or just something that might reassure me of anything close to meaning or motion, with a reason to move. i needed something, I want to be close to, & I scream; but I still don’t know why I do it because the sound never stays, it just swells and decays. So what is the point? Why try to fight what is now so certain? The truth is all that I am, Is a passing event; that will be forgotten.