Friday, December 7, 2012

Post No. 204


Something is wrong with me. Emptiness. The emptiness that gulfs me is continually crashed by the waves of life, carving it bigger and bigger that the void is sucking me inside.

I am passing through life, unseen and unperceived. My absence will not make it sad. My presence won't spark jovial celebrations. My handwriting is chicken shit; reflection of what I am, what I feel, what I see.

Borderline psychosis. Depression. And a bulging tummy. Demn.

2 comments:

  1. hey kid - we are all just passing-through...

    absence is also a presence and emptiness is also something so in the end, there's really no real absence or emptiness - just negative vibes.

    you'll be fine.

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