Strangely the world spun like the edge of every voice touching my wounds and thinking about the sky, never repeating words but just thinking, living and thinking, dreaming and diving, never stopping, keeping rhythm, never remember, bleed for the first time because like the last time it isn't the voice that you have now but the voice you could have later. I once thought about the end of the world, dreamt it to be as beautiful as the sunrise, plucking away at my skin with shards of glass, feeling the nuclear winds peel back my eyelids and suck the breath from my lungs, I dreamt of this day and I never felt scared, because I dreamt that you'd be there and that for the last time in our lives we'd wonder what could have been between us, I remember feeling unsure about you, detonating the sea, bleeding it apart, jaundice coloured tides, remembering all the poems I wrote for you, remembering how to talk again, remembering how to live again, you are the light in my sky, and if I were honest I've never felt so dead before, this is the moment I stop living and continue existing, where I am nothing but a coloured collection of wires and tubes breathing and eating for me. I sometimes wonder if it feels better to never think like that, perhaps that way my heart can beat without it hurting my chest... because the nerves have stopped their sensation and the world at my feet is slowly erupting into something beautiful. I can't remember the last time we kissed, the last time we touched, and this is what destroys me. I feel bad for being the come down to this thread. I apologise. I should have never come here.