blank slate

Here I stand, blank and formless.
will you come and stand before my endless void?

Together we can be two halves of a coin.
you can be light and I'll be dark and together we can simply be.
But that's not how the world works,
you'll see.
There's no such thing as a perfect fit.
No such thing as the other half.
There is only solitary pillars standing in a sea of of sand and fear.
The desert swallows all, but it doesn't matter.
Death is infinite in its sudden betrayal of life, but that doesn't seem to matter.
Nothing can kill you.
No matter how cutting and biting those words feel,
No matter how real those fists and feet feel they won't kill you.
So you are infinite so long as you do nothing, but the withering agelessness of time will find you and turn you worthless.

No matter how cruel life can be
it won't kill you
and that just means it's all the more cruel for leaving you alive.

So will you stand there and take it?
Will you be the one life crushes within an inch of your life?

Or will you fight?
Will you be the one to throw yourself against the walls they have set up around you?
Will you cut and gnash and scream even when no one is listening?
Is that the life you'll live in spite of time and life and death and those fists and fears and sand that gaping hole in your chest?

WHY NOT?! Why not?! Why not?!
Life is nothing if you stand alone in the dark with your face a blank slate looking into the nothingness of your own soul.
Be a running river with nothing to lose.
Be a screaming eagle with claws and beak and wings ripping through the sky for no reason other then to fly.
Be the girl with black hair, nails, and heart who stands alone.
Be the boy who stares at his feet rather then risk seeing the world.
Be who you are even if it means being someone at all!

Listen if you can still hear
Read if you can still see
Eat if you can still taste
inhale if you can still breathe
embrace if you can still feel

A life unlived isn't a waste, it's only a dead bulb that never brightened the endless darkness of your heart
A life left unexplored isn't a mystery, it is only a hollow in your dead skull
A life left for the vultures isn't a feast, it's only a fissure up your spine.

A soul left uncollected isn't a burden, it's only a gasp of breath left un-inhaled by your dry lungs.
A soul left forgotten isn't an obstacle, it's only a lump in your empty stomach
A soul tortured isn't a crime, its only a knot in your torn muscles.

And just like that it's like you didn't even exist.
And in the blink of an eye you left nothing but a corpse.
And in a flash you stopped being worth the air you breathed.
and in a snap
With a crack,
rip,
scrape,
something was forgotten before it was ever found.
So what now?

It all goes back to that endless void,
that eternal nothingness,
that blank slate.
So tell me!!
Are you, you? Or something so much less?
Are you worth that heart in your chest? That brain in your skull? That spine that holds you up? Those lungs that even now fill you with air? That acid fill stomach? Are you worth those tendons and muscles that make you who you are?
Or are you not even there? Are you a gaping nothingness like the rest of that endless void?
Or are you too a blank slate?