the same feeling lingers more than allowed, resurfaces the dim coloured echo, chasing away a glimmer sense of hope, it’s hollowed.

I don’t eat my feeling, it eats me, shatters, dematterializes the smallest existence of a will to believe, to yearn, to dream.

to every beat of the drum with no actual tempo, suffocating the lung out of me. my toes numb, my guts shaken, my head spins.

without missing a beatーa bit, a quake arrived with warnings I ignored, the cracks were formed; it’s a trophy, a reminder of what’s been endured.

a memento.

ah, the whispers become too frequent, too clear, to evaporate the agony, permeate my fear, to the slightest cheer I shear.

I stared

I’m beatenー

the unreasonable resonance starts to reason. I suppose I might call it even and summon all the ravens.

it’s sadness, it’s hopelessness, it’s everything near surrender. I’m breaking the glass of the core of my own, piece them together, then break it again just to link them back, again, on and on, repeatedly.

I don’t like what I feel and how I feel it, but I’m the one who let me feel what I feel, what I see and how I see it.

it’s peace, it’s quiet, it’s a let go. it’s not a grievance nor it’s an acceptance. an indifference that makes things don’t matter. I, don’t matter.

it’s the opposite of transcend, it’s not the left, and far from right. it’s a wishful thinking of the existence of nothingness, the null everyone refuses to believe, the stillness of an end, the soundless air so loud it’s silent.