I won't trust the air with secrets.

The world is falling apart around me,
and I know not if I have the shoulder breadth
to keep it aloft.
I cannot see the world in color some days,
the negative weeds its way into me
and moving is merely a notion.
Justice is a joke.
All of this is a joke.
Everyone is so sad. Everything is so sad.
But not really.
I don't take the time to say what I mean anymore.
I don't care to,
because the motions of mouths 
are less powerful than the motions of hands.
My body is a casing, 
holding me back from the life that I wish to fulfill.
These words fall short,
and so does time. 

Fuck it.