Last Breath

 

Once I reached the surface, all I could think about was him.

I had imagine that my whole life, would've flash before my eyes.

Instead, my mind was sollely focused on his memory.

My numb body yearned for his touch, his taste, or just his sent.

Whenever I was afraid his mere thought became my shield.

It never occured to me that he wouldn't be there.

In one of the moments I would needed him the most.

In spite of  the constant repercussions for my actions, 

I was to be this time trully blamed.

Reverberating now with the sound of consequence,

I loathed the time when I could just laid back and relax.

Now those thoughts are but a mockery of my current situation. 

A current which physically represents the emotional force. Currently pressing down on me towars the bottom.

If only I was born with the gift of sight

Or I was destiny's desire of a more delirious dream.

Maybe if a had the opportunity to experience

Life as I truly felt it inside of me: If only, if only...

It seems a though the only echo that reflects

The egotistic personification and by all means

Keeps on lashing to an infinitely thick wall

That is incarcerating the “IT” to the flesh.

The easiest way out is always the most difficult.

The planning, consideration and timing

Are even worse than actually trying to control

The joke of life itself by which at that point

It becomes so clearly putrid and disgusting.

Genies always say that the act of wishing

Is worse than death because with death

One know exactly the outcome but with the wish

The analogy becomes its own universal truth.

Humans do not wish because they want

They need to want in order to wish and I say

What is the point in wishing if I don't want anymore?

In retrospect he is my need, my want, my wish

my desire to look from the inside out and not need,

Nor want, nor wish but just plainly and simply "TO BE".