Do you know the taste of low life?
The tongueful grasp of a selfish empathy?
It has no taste...it's senseless
Yet somehow I know it
I taste the crickets crawling in my throat
The chirping of silence creeping
The perching of nothing but my mind splitting, my reality parting
I have feet in...idk what?
Reality?
A grasp on a group of friendly realities?
"I think therefore I am" is not enough
I feel therefore I need, but what
It isn't knowledge, its reality
I need to feel reality, but I can't
I can only feel selfish anonymity
