To Exist.

I quivered at the brush of the wind. The brush of souls distanced as they touched upon my arms. I was still walking, walking around the garden. A garden fed with the tepid streams of my consciousness.

Laughing at the sights, laughing as they passed. They meant nothing. They wafted into the night as vapor. The dull gleam of my eyes reflected them from my heart. A listless gaze that drifted in and out of focus.

Worn, I collapse. I sleep in the earth. A canvas stained with my body. Bound to the spoiled world, I wept. I suck in the air, swallowing tasteless drafts. I pretend to breathe, pretend to be alive.