The emptiness that is me cannot be filled with presence.
Cannot be satisfied with feelings.
Cannot be healed with tears,
Trails of smoke,
The hollow existence of which I cease to be.
With nothing but the sounds of my waves of thoughts.
Crashing the walls of my mind.
The drops linger on my trembling hungry lips yet die young.
I am not what I once was.
I am not yet what I want to be.
I am stuck in a maze that I once thought was a straight line.
People that I once held on to left to find their way out.
and the longer I stay,
The more lost I get in the twists, twirls, and turns.
I am stuck.
I am trapped.
I am estranged.
Yet become familiar with the tiles and the cracks creeping up the seldom walls that are wrapped around me.
They never changed.
They never left.
And I start to wonder if I want to find my way back.
With nothing to lose,
I am empty.
I am content.
And as close as I will ever be to happiness.
So I stop the race with time.
I stop running after the ghost of promises.
I plant my feet in the solid ground.
I dissolve in the paleness of the aging walls.
For the first time,