“Food for Thought”

I am alive.

I am silence.

I’m still alive.

Only silence.

Life lines.

Meaning of life.

Does speaking make you alive?

Only just,

only just,

only just.

Just look at how made of lines I am.

I am alive.

I am alive.

But I don’t feel it.

Sometimes

I am silence.

Life lines.

A funny word.

A concept.

Does that make me alive?

Only just.

Only just.

 

“Valuable Therapy”

6:29

I’m dying.

I feel too much.

I’m suffocating,

I’m breathing.

I can’t tell the difference.

All I know is that they both hurt like hell.

6:30

I’m still dying,

just not dead.

I’m dead,

but still alive somehow.

My organs are choking me, my skin is too layered.

I want to rip it off.

6:31

They talk to me.

I listen.

I don’t listen, but I still hear.

Pure madness lives inside my bones,

inside my veins.

Nicotine for the soul,

nightmares for my brain.

6:32

Paint explodes inside my irises.

Screams echo from my fingers.

I’m an experiment,

an immortal,

a human.

[time of death; 6:33]