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depressed.

i crawl into cold sheets, my own warmth against the chill, and i wrap myself in a flimsy comforter leaning in like a ball. i huddle against the pillows and goosebumps prick my skin. alone and never feeling more alone. and i can't sleep anymore, the comfort gone. and all i can think of is that this bed is so frigid, and the air is so empty and the room is so dead. i can't sleep knowing the nights between us are gone. no more snuggling into eachother's warmth, no more nights of sleeping entwined.

dead love.

how can i lay here, in this very bed in which we slept, embraced, and loved. where kisses were extensions of our hearts and hands were clasped in one anothers and arms were security and comfort.

and i roll over, colder air seeping in beneath the sheets still and running down my neck, and cringe. and still no comfort. no easing into sleep until it has taken sobs and dampened pillows well into breaking dawn, until the eyes tire into exhausted slumber only to open to watch the clock's hours melt. and the digits ooze 8, 9, 10 and 11, still. until finally the air is so thick in the room from afternoon heat that i'm forced to move. and i stare blankly for a while until finally i look myself in the mirror and begin the routine.

shower and then return to my room and sit, water evaporating from my skin and towel damp. slowly move to put on clothes and return to sitting in silence. i have not heard my voice for hours. and for all i care, i don't have one anymore. because for all i care, i do not exist.

and those that do not exist, should not sleep. should not eat. should not leave a fingerprint on the day. just be a phantom. a ghost's shell.

this, i do well. and i kill myself a day at a time. and,

hello world. this is me. regret to meet you. with masks cast off and showing true colors.

throwing : stones


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