No motivation, or reason worth the effort.
I could send an intense message with a death.
They can't refuse to listen to empty expression.
This desperation engulfs itself.
There is no present depression.
Emotions are faded, carbon copies, faux.
Am I alone in this?
I don't believe in clinical diagnosis.
transparent lies offer me no comfort.
Is it comfort I want?
What do I want?
What do I need?
What is this distant familiarity I see though glazed eyes?
Through a glazed soul?
It's a dream.