I remembered what I wanted to say.
I've come to the realization that if I could tear my life apart
and build it from the ground up, it would be unrecognizable.
It's detachment.
And not the type of detachment
where you're watching your life like a movie.
The type of detachment
where you're floating in space,
and everything is so far away from you.
You can't sense the day-to-day,
The birds and their hopeful songs,
The trees, their rustle in the breeze,
The slight smiles traded to each other
with a quaint scent of dreaminess
wafting through the air.
Neither can you sense the deeply unique,
The tears of one who is breaking apart,
The fear of someone holding on to the cliff's edge,
The words hurled at you borne from the agony
Wrought by your rampant apathy.
The joy, the peace, the sadness, the rush,
The relentless heat of condemnation,
Is all just memory.
Everything I do is so far from me,
The sound dulled and brought to a whisper
In this void I'm in.
In this moment the most real thing
Is the light from stars long since dead
Racing into my retinas as it is pursued
By the reality of demise.
The harbinger, the unfeeling messenger.
Something about it is just so beautiful to me now.
If earth tore itself apart, would I feel it?
I fear not.
I am not grounded.
Perhaps that is why I thirst for rock bottom.
Perhaps I hope this numbness is the precedent
To painful collision
To the impact of my vessel into the hard ground
If every part of me is broken,
Is it not fertile ground to rebuild?
In the crater of my impact I shall build a garden.
I shall root myself.
Perhaps this is all hallucination.
My reality distorted by the dying whimpers
Of my brain as it starves of oxygen.
But I want to hope, I want to believe.
That things get better.
As I hurtle toward the ground
I know that if I could I'd smile
And if I could I'd shed a tear.