"But look in my bed and I'm bound to be sleeping. I'm lying there dead, but I'm breathing. And I'm barely balancing as it is. And I don't want to drown in my dreams."
Not that I have any though. The concensus is that I have no direction. Okay, that's all well and good. What the fuck do I do about it? I don't have any ambitions; I have very simplistic wants.
"Remember to breathe..." I wonder how someone like you finds time for that sort of thing, what with cramming life so full. I guess you're not claustrophobic, maybe it's something like agoramania or something. The second point is that for some reason my body does not comprehend that breathing is supposed to be an instinct. (I.e. I stop breathing periodically.) And laughing makes me hyperventilate.
Okay, well I need to be studying for a midterm that I have to write tomorrow. I'm going to spend this week catching up on all the readings for school that I've been neglecting. But I'll leave you with this: It doesn't have a title, but I wrote it at work today.
can you find me?
do you even know me?
do you even want to?
or am I just that faded rose
that crumples to dust in your hand
and is blown away by neglect
to be scattered at your feet.
do you see me
with lucidity and trust?
with patience and truth?
I know I'm difficult to hold
with your rosy fogged up glasses
making it difficult to pick at the shards
of all I am.