Burial

Planet Tokyo Burial Being here is like being under a slab.  I'm buried alive. Any sense of well-being or smallest confidence in anything is an illusion that never lasts longer than momentarily, here where I am buried. How did I get here and why did this death choose me? Nothing lives here in my burial place. Tomorrow is dead.  Today is dead.  Yesterday is dead. My burial place is at the site of protracted death. Too tired and upset to even tune out to this living death. Too anxious to sleep, even though all I wanted was to lose myself in the next best thing to death:  sleep. Felt like I was floating away. It's my very own free-floating roller-coaster and elevator, all in one. On edge, hoping for silence. Silence is golden in this place of death. I thought about being trapped.  I vaguely thought about killing myself, but it's not very appealing.  I think I just want to escape the feeling of impotence and hopelessness. We are intractably at odds and have been all along.  But, like death, this living death never improves ... and it never ends. I speak but I am not heard. To be unheard is to be dead.  To be unable to influence or alter anything is to be dead.  So I am dead. I am crying without really feeling it. It's just wet on my face.