say something about yourself: what is there to say? words, not feelings. i feel nothing. i am twenty three going on twenty four & i feel nothing. i have an awful fucking wanderlust lately & i’ll spend my hours silent staring at some terrible tv or wall or room full of children & i’ll be off in the country or laying in a bed in the middle of the city. say nothing. be nothing. be still. my body is always cold & sometimes i wonder if i’m really alive but we all wonder than from time to time. what if we’re a figment of our lover’s imagination & that we cease to exist when they decide they’re through with us? i look at you with feelings but i keep my body still & my words locked up tight. is there truth inside of us? watch how my fingers move. i leave & watch as you dissolve into air & float, float on & i wish i could make myself smaller, & smaller. small enough to curl up in a pocket near your heart or small enough to hide away. saudade. i’m as heavy as a ghost & i hear those whispers from the walls late at night. show me what we’re made of, bones & blood, evil & love.
