where am i

i keep confusing 'unreality' with the 'real' world
what am i grasping on to? this senselessness that pervades the air, are my very hands the accomplices (among many others) which mould it into something that will gratify my prejudicial perspective of the world? such that when my hands are no longer reaching, or out of reach, the same senselessness that made vague sense a few minutes ago become formless?

the same senselessness that killed dreams

was just telling j yesterday that i feel like everyone is struggling for a piece of the world & the world has no place for me, in which she said 'it's true, the world has absolutely no place for us, we don't belong here"

i want to believe it with every ounce of my heart
but my love is weak

took a long time to fall into slumber last night, was staring at the ceiling of my wall, watching the light dance & shadows engulf any remnant of light left with every passing car downstairs, yet the light from the street lamps reflected below never failed to bounce back after every fleeting car--

is that what faith is like?

hovered on the brink of unconsciousness half-ill between grotesque reality & killed, savage dreams,
turning ideas at the back of my head

where i had an image of a clenched fist encapsulating a hapless fruit
the clenched fist tightened around the helpless fruit
tightening, tightening
until the juice of the fruit was excreted & collected in a pool below
until all that was left, trapped in the unrelenting fist was pulp
useless pulp
bound for the bin, bound for the incinerator
bound to be ashes

& i wondered if i was the juice or the pulp

society only rejoices with the competent
& eradicates the rest

who am i to struggle against the suffocating fist?