pages. so many pieces of paper. scatter in the wind. dead roses. empty bottles. dusty eyelids.
soon. i will be loved. for twenty years i have repeated that mantra.
my world has shrunk to the size of my apartment and still i repeat my mantra. the flesh is failing and still i repeat the mantra.
soon. i will be loved. nothing penetrates the sky here. the blinds are drawn. the television is on, but the volume is off.
eyelids flutter, but never really open. i am sleeping beauty.
i am waiting for something that i have made sure will never happen. when i walked away from music. when i walked away from art.
when i walked away from drugs. when i walked away from sex. when i walked away from life.
i told everyone that denial was the purest form of beauty.
knowing you could have something and walking away from it was the purest light that there is. it appears i was right.
tonight is my birthday. tonight is thursday. tonight is the same pure light it has always been. 
i am ready to stop eating again. its time. i must become entirely made of light. i must try harder this time. last time i almost made it.
the satellites are waiting. soon. i will be loved.