There’s no hope in these bones
That stupid clock won’t stop ticking. Tick-tock, constantly reminding me how wasteful my days are. Time an unforgiving resource, an anecdote of a bad example.
There’s no hope in these bones. The last bit ran out days ago. Now I just float, slowly, surely, uncertain of my direction. Like a stick in a turbid ocean. Yes, that one, the one we call life.
There’s something stuck in my head, or my chest, maybe even my bloody nose. I can’t describe it, but I know it pisses me off. Every day is a drag, I’m angry at something. Time is slow, but fast. I can’t keep up
I wonder what I might find at the edge of my consciousness. I went there once.. smoked something I shouldn’t have. Probably shouldn’t have been smoking either, But who cares anyways?
Now I feel like crying, though I couldn’t tell you why. I guess I kept these walls so long, they became.. me. But what would I be without them? Defenceless, from my abstract enemies society, gave me before I even knew what I had to protect.
It’s weird. I used to love my family. But now when I think of them I feel nothing. It’s a shrivelled part of me that refuses to respond when I poke it. Something has died in me, that’s for certain. But your guess is as good as mine about what it is.
If you cut a human-sized hole in a little corner of my heart, you might find a little boy, strumming an oversized guitar. Humming in tune. It’s one of those familiar tunes too, you know it, it’s on the top of your tongue, but you can’t place it. I hate that guy. He’s still hoping, that someone would save him, from an enemy, he doesn’t even know. I hate him.
And that stupid clock. It keeps reminding me how futile my existence is. Time is in merciless flow and you’re just as insignificant as the next guy.
So I don’t hope for anything, just rest then death.
