05:00 pm
The only truth.
Any remnants of a being that is fully lachrymose no longer remain.
Upon the first note I felt this immense sentiment of nausea.
No longer enveloped by nostalgia
merely shame.
What was it that truly compelled those notes to completely fulfill the needs of exactly what it was you wanted to create?
I used to listen to this in such a weakened condition, but now I am completely numb.
These are your pleas
your cries
sincerity
pain
love.
Each note is calling to me. Each note is grasping tightly onto my arm and pulling me onto my knees. The world has become too vibrant with my shame and when I force my fucking eyes open I'm only met with filthy bathwater. Though the shower releases water in small amounts, when I collapsed the water collected quickly. ' It is so therapeutic to kneel. Everything is put into perspective and you find this sense of peace'. As the water builds up I can only submerge. Before I take my last breath I am met with the image of you bending on the tile in my black sweats composing this very song. I can vaguely see my reflection from that moment. I was sitting, completely aware of the anticipation we both shared to reunite after our daily routine had ceased. Your excitement was to show this beautiful creation, and mine was to embrace you. You put on your most comfortable pair of jeans and leave. As you walk out of the building you briefly acknowledge the collection of tenants who regularly smoked outside of the building in an attempt to survive each day. My present form is standing right in front of you as you depart, desperately attempting to grab onto you. You look in my direction, as though you are completely blind to my presence and continue walking.
You reach your destination, my work at the time, and patiently wait. I was running behind you the entire walk. I stand behind you, nearly collapsing to my knees
nearly spiraling into the bathwater
and anticipate my arrival. I watched as I walked down the narrow hallway, opened the door, and greeted you with a loving embrace. My face once had color, my bones once had fat to cement everything together, and we once had a connection that refused to break long after the initial embrace. I exchanged a brief glance with myself. The alter ego who was grasping your hand tightly looked back to me with disgust. You two began to head towards the apartment. I attempted to scream but besides a loud retch, only breath came out. You shouldn't have looked at me with such disgust, just because I'm not as privileged.
Back to the shower. The water is overwhelming. Life will progress 'accordingly' but will I ever find fulfillment? Will I ever find truth? Perhaps, the only truth
Any remnants of a being that is fully lachrymose no longer remain.
Upon the first note I felt this immense sentiment of nausea.
No longer enveloped by nostalgia
merely shame.
What was it that truly compelled those notes to completely fulfill the needs of exactly what it was you wanted to create?
I used to listen to this in such a weakened condition, but now I am completely numb.
These are your pleas
your cries
sincerity
pain
love.
Each note is calling to me. Each note is grasping tightly onto my arm and pulling me onto my knees. The world has become too vibrant with my shame and when I force my fucking eyes open I'm only met with filthy bathwater. Though the shower releases water in small amounts, when I collapsed the water collected quickly. ' It is so therapeutic to kneel. Everything is put into perspective and you find this sense of peace'. As the water builds up I can only submerge. Before I take my last breath I am met with the image of you bending on the tile in my black sweats composing this very song. I can vaguely see my reflection from that moment. I was sitting, completely aware of the anticipation we both shared to reunite after our daily routine had ceased. Your excitement was to show this beautiful creation, and mine was to embrace you. You put on your most comfortable pair of jeans and leave. As you walk out of the building you briefly acknowledge the collection of tenants who regularly smoked outside of the building in an attempt to survive each day. My present form is standing right in front of you as you depart, desperately attempting to grab onto you. You look in my direction, as though you are completely blind to my presence and continue walking.
You reach your destination, my work at the time, and patiently wait. I was running behind you the entire walk. I stand behind you, nearly collapsing to my knees
nearly spiraling into the bathwater
and anticipate my arrival. I watched as I walked down the narrow hallway, opened the door, and greeted you with a loving embrace. My face once had color, my bones once had fat to cement everything together, and we once had a connection that refused to break long after the initial embrace. I exchanged a brief glance with myself. The alter ego who was grasping your hand tightly looked back to me with disgust. You two began to head towards the apartment. I attempted to scream but besides a loud retch, only breath came out. You shouldn't have looked at me with such disgust, just because I'm not as privileged.
Back to the shower. The water is overwhelming. Life will progress 'accordingly' but will I ever find fulfillment? Will I ever find truth? Perhaps, the only truth