sinking feeling
oily marks appear on walls
where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life
distant, indifferent, uncaring
along with moments of content, joy, and wholeness
but theres an itch. that i cant seem to scratch.
could someone get it for me?
my life passes me an hour at a time. and i feel nothing.
i watch as the sunshines, people walk and talk, as the trees move, yet i feel nothing.
i am standing still and the world is a blurr
hot damn. i am looking foward to summer of nothingness. work. money. dancing agian. social life is the last thing on my list.
goodbye.
where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life
distant, indifferent, uncaring
along with moments of content, joy, and wholeness
but theres an itch. that i cant seem to scratch.
could someone get it for me?
my life passes me an hour at a time. and i feel nothing.
i watch as the sunshines, people walk and talk, as the trees move, yet i feel nothing.
i am standing still and the world is a blurr
hot damn. i am looking foward to summer of nothingness. work. money. dancing agian. social life is the last thing on my list.
goodbye.