No Name #1

I drop every once in a while

to a place where loneliness prevails

the door swings wide for me

the wind, cold and unwelcome

standing on my two feet

shaken by multi-dimensional doubts

disturbed by reasons to live

it seems I have so much things to do

so little time to be attentive

overwhelmed by the sense of living

the pressure to be something worthy

it takes so much to be nothing

the raindrops whispering on my shoulders

while the world is burning

I walk away to escape myself

this poem is going nowhere

while everything's getting to me

the sun, hidden and disgusted

an unforgiving father to earth

do I even need hope to keep going?

or the fear of dying is the only one

that is keeping me going?

where is this going exactly?

finding every object as symbols of decay

fiddling my fingers into open wounds

plucking my skin into dissection

trying to find somewhere inside

whatever it is, this abundance of diseases

existing inside every crevice of cells,

the raindrops storming my hair

wet socks from stepping into small puddles

the desire to feel alive at all

it will never stop, it will never stop

yet I am alive