Static

All I hear is my body creak.

The empty space that should contain my thoughts.

But there is nothing but the vibrations of words trying to form but never forming.

All I hear is static.

The chair and desk that fill the void with dramatic groans. 

This horrendous gut feeling and the lack thereof.

The numbness has become too numb.

Overthinking was so prominent and now all I do is think of empty space.

Underwhelming feelings of lack of purpose.

I am no one with nothing, but yet I continue to persevere in agony.

What is the purpose without direct influences?

Only time will tell as the sand thins greater.

But as I sink further and further into this metaphorical bed.

As I wrap myself around the covers to find at least some warmth and worth.

I am cold and desperate.

Desperate for a reason.

Desperate to find a torch of the socialite.

And to pry myself from the wrinkled hands of famine, it hurts. 

All I know is nothingness and nothing more.

© Niklen 1/18/21