I don’t know what to tell you, she’ll whisper with her glare. No one around here is really alive. How do you cut someone so effortlessly, when the conduction of warmth and beauty lies at our fingertips? Was it all an illusion? I’ll believe it was but know it wasn’t. Confusion lying within her mind; blind to the darkness and the light. I’m standing still in a place that tastes like a familiar purgatory.

 I’ll hate to see your demise, open the door of bullshit and what those lofty thoughts fall to the ground, shattering to small pieces of falsity. Break me down and burn my envy. An old thought that still rings true, though its meaning has been manipulated by the constant motion of tyme.