17
I wish I could remember when it was just the moon brushed into a charcoal canvas.
I could look up and feel so utterly alone.
That used to be so haunting.
To understand we sit in a void inside another void.
All of this contained inside another chasm.
What I would give to be forgotten in this present moment.
Now I run with no escape.
No longer looking up to see the night.
Just the color hell is.
Teal.
Evermore claustrophobic.
It’s a crushing feeling.
A burden to carry.
Weighting every extension.
How do I go on besides an innate urgency that necessitates I survive?
The Lambent 