#crisism0de

I scratched my every surface hoping that my discovery would peel over me like heat behind a dissolving cloud

It mocked my every blinding dead end

and pinched me to question my authenticity

Could it be that I am the dream?

That the feeling is real, but I am not?

How do I test the certainty of my existence when every compass needle emerges through my chest?

Directionless and with my eyes shut tight, I fear that even when I reach the last bit of flesh festering in the grave of my fingernails

I'll still be left wondering,

What's The Point?