I have demised to remember what I was looking for. Am I searching for something that I’m afraid to find? I thought that if I got lost, I would find myself. Nothing and everything feels like home. Where exactly do I belong? To which ism do I relate to?

Emotionless and numb. I’m tired, bent, and broken. What do I have to lose? Taking myself for granted in moments of frustration. Advantages of the innocent. Hiding from the world... Escaping in my own desperate insanity; wandering in my diminutive pandemia.

This forbidden adrenaline rush is iniquitous, but it feels so concupiscence. Guilty with pleasure. Superficial power. Getting high off an illusion.

Too numb to apprehend. How can I have a sense of right and wrong if I’m not alive anymore? How can I write about life when I’m not living a tale to tell?

Wake me up from this dream. Arouse me insightfully. Induce my unconscious emotions.

Echoing voice in the back of my head

I only wanted love
Longing aesthetics
The nature of sensation

Talks of food, الجنس ,and family: eat, love, and pray. I used to live off a prayer.

When will tonight come?

Why am I waiting?