53, do you remember me?

It’s all falling apart. This house of cards you built, this land you find yourself in. Always finding yourself, suddenly, without passion, exhausted at the sight, and no sweat to show for it. Cracks in the foundation, you got it all wrong and it’s crumbling.

You thought you were at the end, that the road paved before you, and as you go down this decline knowing it will be gentle at first only to accelerate, was ready to handle the momentum of everything you wrought. Instead, a patchwork of cracked lightning erupts alongside you, beneath you, and up ahead, chasm upon chasm, deep and wide and irreparable.

you have failed, there is no cruise control for you here.

And you scramble in your seat, desperate to get off this ride, hands against the tarmac, fingertips bleeding for purchase, and it mocks you, it laughs in your face. There is no stopping it now, it yells above the din of debris you are plowing through, this is the machine you built: you are it and this is the damage you’re leaving in your wake.

If only this was a dream and I could feeling nothing