crying does nothing
It isn't entropy that kills a man, it is thought. Mine come down like a hammer on my spine and store that pain in my back and legs. It's deep inside. A blackened sickness, tiredness from futility. Working for nothing, not being able to be loved or love at all. Losing senses slowly, painfully taking steps toward another fantastic nothing, waiting for the winds of change, but change comes from within and my within in jammed with all that before. One day we all die and fill up those graves, that earth, returned to the stink the stench we trudged through just to get this far. Just to find a wink of compassion from a nurse or a doctor in charge, just to find ourselves but that never happens because we are nothing, everything is nothing and nothing is disgusting.