Lone
Suffocating loneliness. Gasping. Reaching. Clawing. Brings on only more loneliness. Pretend you can breathe, while your body spasms, hide the pain, just a little longer, maybe soon the act will pay off. Death’s chalky cold hands scratch at your soul, longing to eclipse the cure… just that one, unbelievably rare, almost mystic, person that you know must exist. Existence riding on the false sense of hope that is invented out of necessity, projected on every dimly possible connection. Just keep saying it, this is the one, eventually you will be right, or the absence of sunlight will uncontrollably drown you in the darkest depths of space beyond escape. Forever chased by a past forgotten, the glimmers of ghosts created from words unsaid, fumbles in the moment, frustrated timing maligned, and coincidence mixed with the will of the universe. You know the moments, a spark, when space folds, time moves differently, the colors and lights are crisp, the sense that you have been here before and it feels like home. Those precious moments that you know mean something but are often drenched in the feeling that you are an actor on a stage that has no show. Haunted by the thing that is supposed to bring you to life. And now you try to take another breath.