i am running
in circles from
one dead end to another
with nothing to pour myself
into but the corners of these walls
that silently scream with
termites from within.and i’m suffocating myself
with warm whispers
in ziploc bags. little
presents; promises
that were made to be broken
by gentle arms and
gentler lips.
i am inhaling stale air.
what was once
fresh is now foul,
no longer breathable, no longer able
to sustain life.
dead (end) // a.s.m
Silenticel 