Lung Hours

I go on and on and on wondering why all these things happen around me, yet I have never been able to find any answers. The good thing about today was that a kitten came towards me, twice. He was alone, with no one around him. I wish I could take him home. It was the first animal to ever give a damn about me, but the thing is ... well, the thing is that I did not. I walked away. He and his all, jumping and running in all directions just to find someone or something to play with. He had bright eyes, shiny ones, those kind that you only see once or twice in your lifetime, those that stick with you, those that go on and on and on and on and ...

Too far a distance Too long a life Too simple a question Too complex an answer It feels alone A flower Some bushes A wall of trees And perhaps one or two birds It feels alone The roaring crowd Under the dazzling lights With their dosed up minds And their empty hearts It feels the same Running thoughts Rucked up ones Sucked up souls Wound up ghouls It feels the same It feels the same In search of fame It sounds so lame Yet, part of the game It feels the least It feels the most It feels the same It feels alone And yet so numb This game is dumb

It's tightening its grip by the second, smothering me to the point right before death. Then it lets go, just for long enough a time so that breathing gets back to how it must be. But that doesn't last for any longer than a second. It comes back again, in a way that's way more powerful than the last time. Yet, somehow, I don't wonder anymore. I'm used to it. Well, it's more like I'm addicted to it. We're addicted to one another. In a sense, you could say I love it; you could say it loves me. I don't know what it is, though. That's no problem, for it's always been here. And also there. That's all that matters. This is everything.