Ellipsis || Poetry ✓

20 November : kill our souls

// feeling shitty, might delete later//

I write my SOS messages in the spaces between words,
In the pauses after the commas,
Tucked underneath emojis,
Draped over the lack of replies.
I know you can't see it,
Maybe, that's the point.
It's all a reality show, see...
Or learning to survive on one's own,
Or finding sustenance in this barren land.
I'm running low on rations, these days,
And starting to hallucinate too -
Building oases in ink,
Writing, writing, writing
Stories of people stronger than me,
Braver than me,
Better than me -
People who've seen magic,
Who know the way out,
And I'm hoping they'll take me with them -
One day,
If I spend enough time with them,
They'll hold my hand and take me off this island I'm marooned in.
See, I don't send SOS messages in bottles,
I don't shoot flare guns,
Because at the heart,
I know no one can help.
Everything's dead, or dying, or too busy existing,
Bees without any sense
Eagles with eyes made of glass -
There's no one to read this,
You are all zombies,
I'm a zombie,
Feasting on the self,
Or on anything that moves, really -
Hungry, we're hungry,
(Always fucking hungry)
So we stare at screens or light bulbs or fires or the sun,
Burning our retinas with blue lights
Because it makes it easier to see the oasis.

Yes, the oasis –
See, it's right there?

Once I reach it, I'll learn to fly,
And flight is the key, see...
The key.
Off this island.
I'm running low on rations,
Did I tell you?
So I pick up my phone
And play make believe...
Make believe...
Make believe
Make believe
Make believe...
Remember? You repeat a word over and over and over again, and it...
It becomes real.
That's how the saying went.
Remember?

I remember.

Anyway –