People gather like tides. And they leave behind only foamy remnants of the past. The ground below my feet becomes fragile. Gravity forces my toes to break the layer of the sandy crust, anchoring my feet ankles deep into the bitter cold earth. My body, petrified, merged with the soil below me, is forced to watch the periodically endless cycle of tides. My body, unmoving, is forced to choke on the salty waters of mother earth’s tears. All I ever wonder and wish for is when I’ll be able to breathe again.

I undo my black Casio watch. My wrist, free from the shackles of time, eerily itches from the awkward emptiness. I set it down gently next to my bed. My eyes follow the longer hand rotating around the tiny tick marks ever so slowly. It’s peaceful. But soon it becomes torturous.

I lay on the bed like a corpse. I stare emptily at the objects in the room hoping for one of them to ask me “how are you doing today?” and for me to reply with big “fuck you.” They don’t know. They don’t know how good they have it. To unconsciously just sit there without any emotions, or any perception of this cruel mad world… Unbound by time and assholes that roam this earth. But then again, I’m an asshole myself. I just sent a fuck you to a nonliving object that directed no moral sins. They don’t deserve that. I do. For being a stupid little boy— who was too quick to judge, too quick, too feel, too quick to fall.

A sanctuary stands in between

me

and the unbroken blanket

of dust

and

Of oblivious roads.