the space in this room grows to vastness every minute i shut my eyes. i inhale the sounds of
shadows to alleviate some sort of hartache that i can't establish with words, trying to fill
every part of me with some kind of feigned beauty, seeming satisfaction.
a solitary sunday morning, the lonely intermittent hum of the pavement whispers empty words
through my window, and the only thing i can understand is 3:30 am moving so fast
it makes my head spin. the emptiness is clawing at me from beneath my bed,
taunting every muscle in my body and every inch of skin
screaming for a warmth that is not my own to come and hold my heart inside my chest.
somehow, our bodies give way to sand
and i could feel mine sinking away somewhere, lost to subconscious numbness and an
emptiness to sound. the only eyes on me when i wake are those that the walls have
to watch every move i make when they whisper to eachother down the hall.