Gray skies on somber mornings,
Suicide today,
Says my weatherman.
Suicide today...

I chuckle to myself.
That's what you said yesterday.
I had the rope ready.
The gun loaded.
The blade rusted.

But nothing happened.
So I don't believe you.
I tell him that nothing ever happens.
But he doesn't believe me.

Apathy tastes the same as this melancholy mental illness.
But my senses are dulled.
And I don't remember what you look like.


Do you hear me?
My tongue is lazy.
I can't say your name.

Do you hear me?

I am screaming for the sake of feeling.
Feeling my vocal chords vibrate.

But you can't hear me.
And these bones aren't so old but they're cracking,
Like my voice when I sang you that song.
Of love ever after.
After all.
After death...

"Hes chipping away at his wrist until there's nothing left."

The end.