Maybe I just didn't feel like it.
Feel.
What is it.
I miss it.
I'm dead to feel.
I'm bled to null.
My life ... it was a beautiful thing.
Like standing on a cliff, overlooking the saphire eternity of the sea- the salt breeze tickling the back of my brain.
No that's not it.
My life is like watching white flurry powder dancing in the playful gusts of wind. Just chilly enough to redden my cheeks. With enough snow to dazzle you rather than blind you with diamond blanketed fuzzy blue earth. Gray mountain tips teasing heaven.
No... but getting closer.
My life... is the grass on my fingertips. The rolling infinity of the plains, interrupted briefly by treelines, foggy horizons, golden beams of light exploding from the nimbi. Rolling forever... no matter how far I reach, I will never close my hand around it all.
My life... was the cool black forever of an autumn night. Stars, familiar friends, angels flying low... glitter and scream silently for my affection. Name me. Pick me. Choose me. Love me. Remember me. Explore me. Caress me.
Reach me.
My life is...
the eternal
the infinite
the forever
of an endless stretch of white.
A nightmare of blank.
I have to fill it in.
Every corner.
Even if I run out of ink,
if I run out of words,
If I run out of blood...
The white void must be filled.
