my being is fragile, and weak, and creaks like a tree about to fall. there is a sensitivity that lays over my heart like a veil.
my spirit pushes against my chest eager to burst out. i feel it tickling against my skin. its desperation to exist is vaguely smothered by its inability to see. i live a life that i don't actually live.
sunlight is like fire. wind is like ice. lightning buzzes behind my eyes as they dart from void to void. a touch is like a hug. a touch is like a hammer.
am i even making sense anymore? i don't feel i am. i feel like i've degraded into a pile of sand.
there's no music that doesn't hold a mirror to my discontent. no song can provide companionship. no voice to my ears.
it's reached a pathetic zenith, i swear.
i can hardly stand it.