Grime

Days are rolling into years, and years into a lifetime of nothing.
I still walk alone, live alone and sleep alone.

Empty apartments.
Silent maids in the morning.
Indifferent dust on the CDs.
Empty fridge and inbox.
User busy.
The screaming silence of the room.

The irony of organizing an unshared space. An entire life.

I run through this dark, lonely path through the jungle and still see no road. Thick vines of mediocrity dragging me back.

I only see the edge approach now; and a fog beyond.

Somewhere, somehow, sometime - I have to break everything off and jump off this cliff.
Either land into freedom or die trying.