6AM

An empty mind with no clarity.

Grey noise and the echo of old lofi tracks

coming from another room in my head.

Nothing solid on which to build any intention.

A will untethered; no up or down.

Can't tell the sky from the ground.

Can't remember how this dream began.

Am I even still awake?

My personality sucked out of the airlock.

Don't know what I want anymore.

Waiting to hit the floor so I can tell I was falling.

The room fills with 6 AM light.

I want to fast forward to when this ends

or go back to when it started and leave.

Where did I put the keys

to my mind,

to my self,

to reality.

I'm slipping through the cracks.

I'll see you when I'm back.

I don't care

I don’t care if you think I’m strange.

Sure I say things other people don’t.

I do things that you think are backwards.

My views don’t match up with the status quo.

I see things you enjoy as degrading and immoral.

Whilst I love the things you love to hate.

I don’t fit on any of your endless spectrums.

I don’t define myself by the standards you've created.

Everything I do has a higher purpose.

Everything you do is for a higher profit.

I don’t care if I’m not politically correct.

I don’t follow the whims of the masses on morality.

I live according to truth whether you see it or not.

I’m not waiting for a survey or vote to tell me what to believe.

I’m not waiting for a study to tell me right from wrong.

I’m not waiting for another leader who will lie to appease me.

I’m not waiting for another chance to bow down and apologise to you.

Do whatever you want to me, there will be justice in the end.

Truth will be made clear from falsehood and lies.

I don't care if you think I’m strange.

I am proud of who I am. I am proud to be a stranger.

In Loving Memory

There are more graves in this cemetary than all the people I have ever known my entire life.

It's like the ouside world has been muffled. It's almost silent save the rustle of trees in the wind.

There's too many. Too many names, too many lives for my brain to make sense of.

I feel the urge to sink to my knees at every tombstone I read and cry. To mourn people I have never known, and never will.

My future surrounds me as far as I can see. Choking me, warning me, silently calling me.