without reasons
filled with willingness
whispering
you should take the risk
(but it's too late)
rage
and passion
don't seem so opposite now
(were they ever?)
everything seems
much more difficult
just having words
without your strenght
being numb
is not so bad
you dont feel anything
but desperation
(don't we all?)
sleepless nights
and cold bedsheets
the idiocy of unfairness
(selfishness
of unavoidable setbacks)
purpose
taken away
screaming
below the surface
those words
(i don't know what's wrong with me!)
the restlessness
not finding
the solution
just words
worries
seem to take over
the ambivalence
of feeling
both uneasy
and oblivious!
(who knew?)
big shadows
taking over
dissociation:
starvation
in my head
(yet
so many thoughts)
prose
brings embodiment
but everything
looks the same
everything
seems dead.
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