Shut Up

Rivulets made of soul streak down tired cheeks, continuing until the sensation becomes exasperating.
But the sensation alone, it's just...not enough to instil life into anything other than those constantly falling tears.
The arms refuse to close the eyes that will not close unforced.
And I don't know how much soul I have left, but...

...it's not as valuable as to require me stopping its drainage...

I watched.
With my soul streaking down my cheeks, I watched as Uri was wasting his.
He looks so small, with his numb bones sprawled on that big bed, eyes fluttering open just to close, revealing what I knew would grow in his soul once I left.
And I left selfishly, I know, Johnny-boy.
But that only gives you the right to hate me
and not yourself.

And with the same eyes, devoid of any human emotion, those eyes that I stole from you, my friend, I watch myself. My transparent self. My trembling hands. My heavy legs. And the tears that gather in a pool in my lap...a pool of soul...

But, though I have your eyes, I can't get me as you got me. I only see a self-absorbed bastard, a selfish jerk that avoided pain all his life.
Is that how you saw me, Johnny-boy?
Is that even me?

And then the little dog barges in, lacking the violence I recalled I adored, lacking the soul I found was sewn in all her pleas, but not lacking those beautiful eyes in which I could've fallen and be forgotten.
Her eyes that shine like a sun, a black sun, a black hole, a black soul.

The rivulets stop, followed shortly by the pitter-patter of the last drops.
And my eyelids descend slowly over dead tired orbs.
And the soul falls through the fabric of my lap.
And I follow it to meet a world whose image I have deliberately forgotten.
The world in which Lore rested...
I'm so...numb...