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Watching from outside a one-person search party, inviting eyes to watch my watching from outside, encouraging eyes to watch your watching my watching from outside. An unnoticed pillar will collapse soon, and while it won't bring down the world, it will bring down her world, and from that the world will eventually die as will I. Grey doesn't want me talking this way, nor probably do you, but frankly do you even exist? I'm a void-talker, I throw my search party to the void and only the void listens. I give the void a half-gross meal and I take solace in that.

Is this to be another blog where I embrace the void and give a title to our fears? Why listen to that? We're seeing firsthand what the next centuries will call our ruins.
I'm the first and last voice to know fear. Fear is that which has a name, name is the chapter of my story already heard, and now it's gone and there is only the void.

I guess and I speak only in bold statements, void statements. It's yes and where is only the change, void end? Black hole and only the void. Take toll and it's only devoid. Fake coal and the lonely Freud, bonely noid, tonely toyed, only the void.
I'm the first and last voice to know fear.

I have a certain responsibility now that fear is gone, responsible to keep a Grey afloat that I no longer believe. Should I believe? I believe in nothing at all. Every thought is a wall. Bang your head and this, our daily bread, falls out of the sky and mocks that I no longer have the wings I thought I did, so I bury my soul in burning plastic as I relive the last of my childhood nightmares. Squirming with the worms in the dirty earth, home of the birds. I miss wings and eyeless things.

Death. The hardest part is waking up again.