(Source: skylerdrake)
How have I been? Pretty coo. I mean I am still. What do I mean? My life is still. Still suffering. Still enjoying. Still depending. Still antagonistic. Life moves still. If it were to remain still, I would enjoy it less and less each day, dreading peaks of mornings. It hurts. Still hurts. You still have my heart yet I still suffer our memories. How are you? No I can answer that. Your life? Moving. Your stoplight? cucumber green. My life is still, at a inevitable pause to which I can’t control. My body aches. Still. I move on as if my stoplight weren’t the color of the blood that I bleed from a heart so crushed. Still, I move spiritually. Spiritually, I move. Mentally. I am as dead as the pioneers of a graveyard, killing me even though I am already dead.