Where has my lust for life gone? I used to enjoy the sound of cars passing by my windowsil. The feeling of my feet against the carpet but my feet never reach, my ears never hear, my stomach feels sick, my heart barely beats. I have sunken deep, deeper still. For I know not hoe far I will go, only that when you're with me I am oh so distraught, and that you haven't left me since I swore up and down that your words were fake, that the sentiment was misplaced. Confused, can't wrap my mind around it. The thought of being chained to this place, it makes me need to get out even more. And so I walk knowing my feet walk to a door, and I've never heard your voice or seen your face, and I oft wonder of the colors that would show as light hit the pigment. Like a stained glass window, now only a figment of a life once lost, of a life once lived.