ghost castle

sensitivity

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.


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