I’m just tired.

Though I suppose it would be more accurately described as a strong sense of world-weariness;

This soul deep ache, deeper than skin and blood or bone - cutting instead into the mind and spirit.

My physical is great. Fine. Alright.

I’m just fine staying up well into the wee-hours, come day break. Come real tiredness.

But I’m so tired.

This false tiredness is pulling me down and infecting my will.

It feels wrong to feel such a way, like I am undeserving of such a pain...

I have a good life, there have been but few hardships. And so, it feels selfish of me.

But I’m tired.

The wells in my eyes are perennially dry and all I can do is stare and squander.

What is there to be done?

I’m just tired.

And that’s all I can say when I brush them all off with a smile.

“It’s okay, I’m a bit tired today, is all.

I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

And I hope that I will.

I look at you before me;

Spector-

Wan, you don’t exist.

Yet I dig sharpened nails like caustic claws into my chest

For you

With talons I circle my own heart and bleed

And tear

Spector-

Ghost

My longing;

I give it all to you

Beating while it lasts

Don’t let the colour scare you

As it scars me

Red is my lust; my longing

For you,

Spector.

Red scores me

And clings like dirt to the beds of my nails

It will never wash away

Spector

Ghost

I will die with my own stains

I will die reaching for you.

I will die.

What difference does having a heart make,

When it is without feeling.

Take it,

Spector

Take it,

Make it feel at last

Squeeze it in your fist and watch it drip

My life, my love

Away—

It was hollow, anyway.

Take it from me, Spector

Free me at last.

Let me die with a smile on my face.

Looking at the lack of you.