the unbearable emptiness of being.

my house is a hill. and my feet like mountains. as i climb up to the top every day in and day out. all the while sleeping at the bottom. and as i finally get to the top. i find that the summit is cold, deserted. and dead. and the snow drifts silently in the night.

and this is how i feel everyday i get home. a married man for four years now. even though the last year or so has been, how do i say, distant. living in a home with a stranger i think i might have one time known. and my foot steps echo in the hall ways, bounce off the walls and give me a slight feeling i am not alone. i can feel her warmth next to me as the night makes its way through the room. our conversations are stagnant. and it doesnt seem like she can look me in the eye.

i have tried many time s to surprise her. gifting her when she first get s home. but she is not really here. and sometimes i am not really sure if i am either. i like to walk throughout the city to get away from the mitigated disaster i so reluctantly call home. and the city is a quiet sound. so full of noise. death. and the clashing of emotional opposition.

i can still remember when we first met. so full of love. togethor the two of us fighting off the hazards of the outside world. and everything back then was so colorful. so full of hope. (and destiny). the first time i layed eyes on her i knew one day we would be one. chasing her for as long as i know. and the day it finally came to fruition. and these are my thoughts as i rumble around the city of the dead. the buildings hovering over each other. as coffee shops litter the streets like dead animals. and sometimes i feel all is lost. but i wont go down without a fight.