Slipping away

I can feel myself slowly flowing away on the linoleum floor, with the sink running and the sliding glass door open.

I hear the birds chirping in what now appears to be a melancholy way. Sometimes I wonder how they can be so oblivious and then I envy their simpleness. I wish I could be just living, instead of caring so much and now slowly flowing away on this linoleum floor. The tiles are sticking to my syrup skin.

My eyes aren't helpful anymore. I thought back to when I spun that plastic bat around in circles until my head exploded from dizziness and the bat would fly free of my grasp. My once useful eyes would reflect spiderwebs back to me from the broken window.

What was I doing here? When they kept saying they missed me, how much longer until they gave up on my showing up again? They can't miss me all the time.

Recently I became less careful. I spilled things and didn't rush to clean them up. Instead, I washed them drip away, acting like I had all the time in the world before it hit the electrical socket.

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Really what more can you say?
It's almost as if you ran out of
Questions, Problems, Concerns

And you don't want to come up with new ones

The side stories, the comments, they're not reserved
so why act like it?

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I feel so blind, said the homeless, and the box drifted away under suspicious circumstances. One of the honest was lost in the stereotype and his cardboard sign was left in discretion.

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(I never post two in one day, something must be wrong with me)