Untitled 1
I wake up,
I sit down,
The loop goes ever on and on.
I realize, at last,
That all this time I’ve wasted
Has dissolved to nothing, melted away.
My hands, they wither,
My soul decays,
I gain no insight,
I lose more hope.
Time, it keeps moving
But still nothing, nothing.
What’s the point of me?
All I do is breathe and breathe, and breathe.
Waste precious space of someone who’s worthy,
Forget my plans, all I’ve worked for
Only to realize I’ve become the locomotor,
I’m the screw.
I’m the wrench.
I’m the wire.
I’m the mundane.
I’m the withered.
My hopes disillusioned,
My aspirations a joke.
I lie here terrified.
Stagnant.
Motionless.
Breathing.
Still breathing,
Still barely breathing.
Copyright © Jojo Alva | Year Posted 2015
|