Hush

Ok. So this is a moment where you feel your small, very small, world is going strait to hell. You hardly know why. And yet you find yourself gasping for air. The house is asleep. The whole world is asleep. Still you're not. Smoking those cigarettes like there's no other, prettier, way of slowly fading. You're absolutly and completly exhausted. You've been tired of life since you were eight. You figured one day it'll be different. How wrong can one be? Cold water. Rooftop pooring on your sunken head. You've lost all friends. You feel that you should apologize to someone, somebody surely, for that lost. There must be somebody to apologize to. Maybe you need a massage. Cats come to take in your smell. The smell of despair. It's new. They're not used to it. Cats, no people for change. The smell of you is the very one way they know it's you. Now they can't tell, so as you. You would like a small patch of warmth, somewhere, between sheets, to cup yourself around. Fireworks. The sounds of fireworks. How silly can one be? Hush.