2,000 Lightyears Away

It's amazing how I stay in shape without someone to chase.
I sit all day and yet I'm a rail.
I communicate across the world from the couch in my living room.
I was supposed to share this living room.
And this apartment.

But they bailed and never came back.

They found it happier elsewhere.

I wish I could do that.

But I'm only happy together, and they're whatever about it.

The shadows are constant now. There is no let down.
I feel like this all the time.

They don't bother to go away.

There are shadows at night in complete darkness.

They're in my bedroom.

The one I was supposed to share.

They penetrate my dreams.

All I dream of is hate and fear and anger and I kill myself only to wake up before the conclusion.

I can't handle it anymore.

One day I won't care or try anymore.

And I'll do it for real.

Maybe I'll wake up again.

Maybe they'll wake up.

I'm replaceable.

At my job, there's just another spot available in the cubicle maze.
At my house, there's just left over furniture with plastic covering.
In my life, there's just another lost soul that "needed guiding to get on the right path."

Ha Ha, I'm dead.

What now?

I play with myself and hold my fingers like a gun and see how long it would take before I'd pull the trigger.

If I think too long, I can't do it.
If I think too short, I can't do it.

I just have to feel the moment.

The TV suicides you can predict. There's a climax period where you have to pull it now or never.

Nothing could be worse than a failed suicide.

By then I'm so pathetic I can't kill myself.

So I get cheap highs from anonymous sex.

Oh joy. Orgasm.

But they don't care what I'm doing half way around the world.

She's having the time of her life with a man she loves.
He's having the time of his life with a girl he loves.

I'm having the time of my life deciding how it should end.

I want to say "Fuck you America. Fuck you world. I don't care about this anymore. I can do anything I want. I can ride a bike with no handlebars."

Of course, I'll come crashing back to Earth and be stuck with my Starbucks brownie.

Grasping onto Kennywood maps that say "Make a new memory!".

Way to put emotion into it.

They resent me.

I can't blame them.