“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.

 

“Today”

When does it

stop sounding so serious?

When does it finally end

On a high note

curled up in someone else’s bed?

I don’t know if I should accept that.

A bright shiny skyline

hanging on someone else’s clothesline.

Severe

sincerity as a means to tell myself

I am alive.

The truth is

in the differences trapped

In my eyes.

There’s so much fear.