Insentience

From the evening twilight,

When orange and yellow hues fight for control of the sky,

On through the witching hour

When darkness lays heavy on the forests and cities,

And continuing still into the dawn,

A smirking whisper reminds me of the life I've lost.

"You are erased, my boy."

Like bullets crashing through my heart on a cycle, these waves pummel over me second by second.

"They'd prefer it if you were gone."
"Your loved ones have said it to your face"
"Theyve shook your hand, and slipped you razor blades."

And so i cry to the higher power, but hear silence in reply.

A thin silence...

Like a love lost, my God seems to have changed his number.


In these days reaching for hope seems as a fools errand.

I feel the only way I can gain my mother's favor is to spill my blood.

And do i feel sorrow knowing my living disgusts them?

No. I would like to. A tear shed would be soothing.

But this time my numbness isn't feigned.

It's shackled to me with iron locks.


I write this from the far side of Jupiter. The cold isolation here weighs on me and cracks my bones.

If anyone holds a care in the world, please do send it my way.

Author's Note

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