Eccentric run Janky.

[FadedLocution]

I think my soul.
Intolerable injunction, sparse interactions..
The climate of an open door, to the soul..
Feeling heartache as if it were tremors, shaking a perspective.

Where are the words, that I may use
Carefully as, a small glass with too much water, shattering..
Into communication worth mentioning, beyond who I am presented as.
Instead of, blocks written left astray, seen as dismissed to decay.
Wondering, I am so wrong, at everything worth mentioning.

My hands will grasp for the feeling, that's too high up.
No amount will reach.
As I build, a tower out of the parts I left behind.
Thinking, maybe I can be just in my head, while my body holds me high,
Reaching farther, but making nothing closer.

What if life, was just mechanically breathing, left wondering.
Would I be just as hurt, maybe better..
Depositing my willpower, as an expended currency of giving, my heart I don't think is there, away.

Fewer are the memories,
As one no longer holds, onto them.
Remaining blank, eyes that blink but settled.
Into the heart but more in half.
Slowly, draining all of me.