I'm standing here, with nothing to my name. But a black bag and the attire I stand in. No name, no history, this is the story of a hollowed man.I'm waiting for something, someone to whisk me off my feet and wake me up.Somewhere where happiness exists within the grasp of my fragile fingers. Somewhere different from here. Somewhere where freedom is an indulgence and not a choice.

Something inside here is burning.
I'm burning my wings, my beautiful angel wings.
The feathers are metling, melting, into each other, into a gnarled and twisted mess of memories and liabilities.

I watch my hands burst in flames before me. I retch your name over and over again. In fact, I retch names, prayers, profanities, lyrics over and over again.
Nothing happens. I'm still burning.

The city lights burn white into my head.
Gaping wide holes to remind me of times now lost.
To remind me of everything that I am not.
The fictionettes spread their legs wide open upon the plasma embodiments that I hide about myself today.

I'm screaming, shrieking for someone, something.
What's wrong? What's wrong with her eyes?

What the fuck is wrong with you?
Quit staring at me. Or you will fall right through this cracks that crawl right into me. I will be the next to fail you. And you will fall too, my tragic hero.
This lack of empathy, sympathy only fuels my regret and angst.

Go on, tear me apart. What are you waiting for? For me to run? For me to hide?

A pale face stares into the dark. I fall, I stumble, I break. Crimson flowers blossom everywhere.
I can't see them in the dark though. What am I doing? Who am I to them? To anyone?

Can anyone hear me? Do you hear this heart burning?
Hear, the sizzle of the blood boiling, the popping of arteries, and
the grizzly sound of the heart shrivelling and blackening.
It's dead. It's fucking dead.

But these eyes are still wide open, staring, living dead.

Who the fuck are you? Why do you stand here in this place and pretend to be me?
Why can't I wake up from this nightmare? I'm disconnected. I'm falling.

Don't catch me. I need to break.
My break. To fall right onto the ground, break every single bones in me, burst into flames, reduce myself to ashes. To roll dead on the ground like a bird, my glassy eyes at the back of my head.

And feel the pain of the end. The end of my everything. The end of this dream called life.
The end of this life called hell.