Once more summer is unravelling and yet another year goes by where I'm finding it hard to do the things that we did together, because you're not here for me to do them with.
Something so stupid as just thinking about playing your favourite video game fills me with sickening guilt and dread. I cannot do Our Things, now that I am alone.
I'm counting the days until I can get better. At being without you, at being alone, at being normal, at being functional. <<What I mean is: I'm counting the years that have passed in which I have failed to achieve these things. I'm guessing how many more years I'll see like this.>>
(-My mind won't slow the fuck down. It won't shut the fuck up. Tom Hardy wrote 'I saw morning harden upon the wall/ unmoved, unknowing/ That your great going/ Had place that moment, and altered all'. I'm watching the years pass me by. John Milton wrote 'those also serve who only stand and wait'. Feeling like everything is coming to a sudden end and i have no idea where I'm going. Wherever it is I just know that I'm heading there at 100mph and I'm going to fucking crash. Probably soon.)
YOU ARE READING
Death by Words: A Selection of Poetry
PoetryA collection of poetry written by me (that, as always, demonstrates my mental deterioration and inner dialogue).
