the rest is dreaming

I miss the feel of being lonely
even though I'm all alone.
But with all these voices
inside my head,
voices of the centuries,
I build a world
of letters, thoughts
and broken moments.

Feels like
never having to feel
nothing anymore.

I'll hunger 'til delirium,
the highest high,
the darkest night,
warming dark,
out of sight,
free from this machine.

The rest is dreaming.
Sweet and salty death.

A thousand scars