There are curves like wild.
Oil deposits that sit on the top of my head like treasure.
Excavation sites that hold history’s greatest stories.
The world’s tallest trees.
And what do they see? What do they want?
I haven’t wanted myself for so long.
So if I didn’t then who else would want to?
I thought for the longest time,
That is the first step.
Wanting yourself.
But when you are so far removed from yourself that looking in the mirror makes you sweat,
Hurts your heart,
You remember that lonely girls still have someone.
And still the number seven billion seems so small.
So limited.
I’m not gonna move across the fucking globe
To find friendship or the love of my life.
But if time and numbers slip past me like grains of rice,
And I still do not find someone to share my soul with,
People to show my tears to,
Then there is no point.
There is no point.
Isolation creeps up like a knife atop the base of my skull.
Where the oil deposits sit,
And the black tree stalks sit tall.
Above all those wild curves
So I wait for the kill.
Lie down and anticipate the crushing realization that y
Your eyes will never find me.
