bojeemus

"It's not about wanting to die." she said, crouched like a dragonfly, ephemeral, on my loveseat. "It's about not wanting to live. To have to continue to take step after step when inside, you are just not there anymore." She sighed, and stared out the window at the sun twinkling behind the leaves. "I just have no reason to live, no essence de la vie, no point to anything. There are moments where I am happy, sure, but at the end of the day I'm just a gear, spinning spinning with no soul. When this skin was filled at the beginning, I have a feeling that they never intended it to last this long. I've run out of gas. I'm struggling to keep moving

There's only so much time to love the ones you've found and I'm afraid of all the time i'm missing waiting here in this messy room here in this office chair here against the window rain running down the glass from both sides the tick tock of the clock is a fearsome sound what happens if now is all we have? I don't want to miss a second of our life I've seen too much disaster too much ill-fortune to hold much hope with the future But I have here and I have now if I only had you it'd all be complete But, I forget. Life doesn't work that way We don't plan for the worst we just assume that life will be the same tomorrow as

At night, I drive, and on the way I empty out my skin that's filled with dusty grains of sand and the tiny corpses of ant lions some still wriggling, attempting to burrow back into the sinking piles that pour from the seams I make little incisions, here, and here, to let the sand pour out faster eager to start afresh. It's difficult to hold the wheel when you are an empty husk but the danger makes the transition even more beautiful I think When every last grain has trickled out and flown out the open windows of my mother's Sentra I start the rebuild I gather the pieces and parts that I'll need A couple glimpses of the s