What Is Existence? (A Poem)

4.13.2015

Where was I when I was existing?
I wasn’t living.
I wasn’t even there.
Everything a mournful blur.
I crave death.
That’s where I was.
The future.
Craving the day I don’t enter my physical body.
Devouring the idea of being.
Being.
Being in a being?
Being in a ghostly shape.
Expanding to fill dreams.
Ha.
We’re all dying.
We’re all aching.
For the future.
-When we’re closer to death.
Laughter fills my soul.
What a silly game.

Why are we even here?
The only point is to feel.
Feel pain.
Feel love.
When will we feel death?
When will we feel feelings?
The last moments of breathing.
I don’t want to be.
I don’t want death.
I want to watch.
I want to see an ending worth seeing.
I live to see end.
We live to see excitement.

My soul was here to observe. To take in.
My purpose is to be a sponge.
Absorb things.
Everything.
Witness.
Everything.
Then squeeze it out of me.
With tiny particles of the memories left.
Expanding my soul.
Funny, right?