Tell Me The Key To Happiness. I Want To Taste It.

And when you do taste it. Will you savour it? Will you roll it on your tongue until your enzymes break it down? Until it tastes like sugar? Until it becomes familiar? Until it disappears? Until nothing else tastes quite as sweet? Until your senses become jaded and they never feel again? Until the air around your face pulls itself down your dry throat, gripping on whatever it can to drag its way to your lungs? Until you penetrate the line between your mouth and the world with only the tip, trying to taste something that isn’t your own spit? Until you’re squeezing the bed sheets hoping that this moment doesn’t last forever? Until your fingers touch your ribs and play them like keys, and they tug on your heart strings and boast about solitude? Until you realize that the only one who can touch your heart is you? Until you realize that you don’t see anyone else anymore? Until you realize that the only thing you’ve got isn’t hope, but a sense of denial that gets you out of bed in the morning, and back into bed at night? Until your legs give out beneath you, because you’ve been walking in circles for so long, the the trumpets never sound and walls never fall? Until rain stops falling and the earth becomes dry, and you find that you have nothing left to drink? Until the trees grow cold, and wither, and die? Until the world fades to black and white and the only sense of colour is a taste of sugar on your tongue? Until happiness becomes a moment that you regret? Until you look back on your life and realise that every second you were alive, you weren’t actually living? Until you choke? Until you suffocate? Until you scratch at your neck praying that God would show mercy? Until your eyes roll back in your head and see darkness for the first time? Until you cry? Well, almost cry, but you don’t because you’re too dry. Until they look at you and say the words you’ve been waiting for your whole life? “I don’t love you.”