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Dig
So it’s like I feel the pain of crying without the energy to do so, or the concern. It is a numbing hurt. I can’t stand it, but I want to wallow in it. Crying out about it is a sign of weakness on my part and an inconvenience to everyone else. Stuck in a shallow grave with my own thoughts. There’s no use in speaking. No one’s listening to the dirt.
Is this a prayer? To whom?
Snapping away from the pull of time and responsibility. I am stretched……---- Snap. Has it happened yet? I can’t say because I can’t feel the sensation in this numbness. Perhaps the numbness is the sensation. Meaningless.
No need to save or name this document. No one cares. I don’t even care. Yet I save it hoping something will happen. Something needs to happen.
Thanks for reading. Now please dig.
What the ** are you on?
If the world around you has allowed you dig yourself a shallow grave, they deserve to be disturbed by your pain. If those around you cannot perceive your pain and loneliness then they need a reminder of what humanity is. You are human, and they have forgotten what that is. Scream, shout, wail in pain, break their beautiful little world. Do them all a favour and remind them that being human is not just a self deception.
I want to dig you out and brush you off and cherish you like the rare, beautiful artifact that you are. But how can I? I'm only air. What say should I have in your destiny? Maybe you are content with your dirty numbness. I remain the aloof air that is just there and taken for granted. Invisible with my own thoughts, oblivious to your thoughts just inches below the soil. I wish I had the confidence of a hurricane. I would scatter the dirt covering you in a frenzy of wind without regard and free you from that shallow grave you've dug yourself. As it stands though, I remain a gentle breeze, hovering above your plot, barley swaying the blades of grass.