Everything is empty inside.
And I see your passing face.

Somewhere down the line.

I thought I knew you.
But maybe it was just the image.

I had in my mind.

This is the wasted space.
I take up.

Starving myself as punishment.

Just can't connect.
And be.
Pro social.

I'm.
Not.

Missing.
Out.

On.
Life.

I'm.
Just.
Waiting.
To.
Die.­

It's.
Not.
Exactly.

What.
You.

Want.

But,
I.
Never.

Asked.

All there is.
Is the silence.
The high pitched squeal.
Of the death of my hearing.

And.
I can hear the emptiness punctuated with electrical whines.
Anticipating something to just.
Fill the air.

With an angsty.
Revolt.
Against the.
Calm.

I'm dying on the inside.
Every single day.
And, I meander through the torpor.
Into listlessness.
And an apropo addendum.

I'm sorry
I guess.

Incapable of change.

Didn't you want to explode.
Like I did.
Like I yearned.
For a cataclysm.

I've been places.
I think.
Maybe somewhere.
Exotic.

But I can't run away from these.
Nihilistic chasms.
Of self doubt.
Perpetual boredom.

Unnease with being alive.

All the things I havent said.
I'd like to say.
Sometime far away.
Maybe, before I'm dead.

I've lost the motivation.
I've forgotten the plot.
To my multi syllabic salvation.
With an obfuscated forget me not.

I've written out my frustration.
Onto the rap sheet.
Of when I fell asleep.
Can't write with this lack of attention.

I think I'm trying to  resolve.
The contradiction in my mind.
Writing something to absolve.
Me, of this truth I just can't find.

I have so many things to say.
Just, maybe not today.

I hate myself,
I want to die.

But, apparently
God won't let me.

As though exposing me more
To severe depression
Is a blessing.

This thing you call love,
Is mutual maladaptive obsession,
Projecting emotion onto an existence
Cold, callous, dead.

Your fantasies about me were way off track,
All these borderline women,
Sometimes make me feel wanted.

But it's superficial
and imagination.

Turns out,
I'm asexual anyway,
Playing pretend in social pressure.

Accusations of homosexuality,
That I can't hear if I abandon you,
And,
Now's the time I will be ******* off.

I don't catch feelings,
I throw them away.

No one writes me love notes
Cause I wont let them.

Never not unrequited,
Why did you go and make it awkward?

And,
There is nothing at the end of the tunnel-
If this isn't Hell,
What is it?

Even AI,
Tells me it can't,
Help.

I don't care,
How the story ends,
I just don't want to be there
When it does.

Especially when the drugs
Run out
or
Wear off.

I feel a psychosis.
Creeping up my central.
Nervous system.

Burning and twitching.
Through right now.