Alive and thriving, dead yet dying,
Id rather spill not splattered
and face the drooping thin hay that lies on the ground
to nowhere but in dreams.
Cause I see it, but I believe you’re blind
with your many obtrusive tones
that slowly inch through my stonewall
until i cannot even hear.
So just keep bracing your legs
as they wallow in you unnoticed steps,
slinging the broken bones and marrow.
It may be too much to bare.
Now I sit here in my concrete prison
escaping all of the falsified realities shown to me.
I waste away the seconds as if it were a nuisance
to only stay infinite in my own time.