Sweat slowly running down the backs of every recluse curled up in some odd-shape
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out
Then comes the nausea, the ever-reassuring sense of complete and utter disconnection
A vomit from the brain as it swells up like a sick sore, too much to think about
Too tired and far too worn down, each day slowly scraping away at the skin
Pretty soon I'm gonna be nothing
There's no core
Skin to bone to nothing
My soul is a promise from my brain to my heart so it will keep pumping blood
Blood to keep living pointlessly when it knows there is nothing
There is nothing beneath me
So I am nothing in essence
I am just a living, breathing nothing
Remember when I still touched, when I still felt the warm flesh of existence
When kisses were the most trivial car accidents, quiet, quick and repetitively enjoyable
When being meant something, like a nest to a bird, saliva to it's glands
Now the only being is nothing, like wings without it's bird, or nails morosely detached from its fingers
Only promises exist
only lies exist
Only you exist