Your Nothing

Stricken, you find yourself again. The tight confinements of the bed you tremendously love, make your decent to the world of nothing, all too easy. Waking up warm and comfortable, you decide then and there, nothing is what you want. It's what you need.
You slowly arise to make your way to your TV, to your living room. Legs propped up to the sky, head in the dust, you sit on your long blue couch. The only motion you bring to your moments, are the thumb twitches to change the channel. Why do you do this? Why does this amuse you? Sitting unaware of the things you could be doing. Unaware of the ideas you are wasting. You give no thought to the world around you. You just lay trapped within the mind controlling images.
All alone you seek only solace. All alone you still seek the comfort of the quiet of being alone. You march to your room, stomping on quaking legs, just to be more alone than you already are. Why? It binds my confusion. Why aren't you finding more chances to almost die? Why not attempt to mend the life, you surely want to lose? These moments, these opportunities are there. They sit on your mantle and watch you sleep. They run by you as you sit in your chair. They laugh as they haunt your dreams. Why aren't you embracing family, taking it all in? Why aren't you finding what you want, love?
It pushes me to the edge of the edge. What's with you? You have the time, you have the ability to do something other than this nothing. It just forces my confusion into place. You just sit there, you just lay there, and nothing. Nothing but, TV and open silence, open thoughts.
Just go back to your bed you so love. Repeat your all too easy decent to the world of useless, the world of nothing. Let it take you away again. Let it waste more and more, over and over. Let it take over, let your actions make me sick of you.

Blind Ice

I cannot see, my mind's mechanics are stuck frozen onto, the thing in my mental grasp. The winter air, colder then ice, my eyes become goggles, I cannot see. No matter what this what this parrel may be, I must find my way again.
I cannot see, skin scarring, brisk wind, impairs my feeling, my sense of where I am. Every step brings torment and agony. My skin breaks and cracks, just like the ice I walk on. I start to stumble, my mind starts to tumble. I'm slowly dying.
I fall knowing it will be my last moment. The sky shatters, turning blue, turning grey, turning black again. I turn onto my stomach, I see a shadow, can it be? Another person? As though the earth mimics the sky, the ice shatters itself and pulls me in. The shadow is gone, I now sink, I cannot see.