(0219) fickle attention

four years. four years without a clue. no notes or letters. no missed phone calls. no phone calls at all. resuscitate me because it's almost too late. skins falls and i faint. dead instruments playing the perfect hymn, and the bones just rot away. memories were just illusion. the exit i meant to get off at isn't even there anymore. your face - smashed into the earth one day, and as we wait, teeth slowly decay. your face was the only depiction of beauty i knew. oh, how naive and primitive. a fucking lie so i just keep driving with no reason nor destination. silence. silence at last.

should've made other decisions, but i digress. if only a moment too late. paranoia pinned me with the frown of guilt and the realization of imminent uncontrollable random reactions. still, it bleeds. and only at death can it end.

"i'm insane. it's your fault."