I’d like to quantifiably know
At which point loneliness becomes
So absolute that it’s tangible.

If there’s a point where
Your bones decrease in density
And start crumbling to dust,
If your blood loses it’s viscosity
Until it’s little more than water,
If your skin starts caving in
Under a skeleton that’s falling apart,
Because what’s the point in having a body
If you’re not doing anything with it?

I know value isn’t in
The sum of all our actions,
And I know meaning isn’t
Derived from other people,
But sometimes in the
Absence of everything,
Significance becomes
An obsolete concept
Much too complex
For me to understand.

In the end I suppose
That’s the fundamental problem,
I can’t find meaning in nothing,
So it must not be inside of me,
And my thoughts feel heavier
When they’re unimportant,
I lack the power to quiet them.

I theoretically know there’s
A light at the end of the tunnel,
But my eyes are so blind
I’m not sure I believe that’s
Anything more than a platitude.

So I want a number,
An absolute concept,
Something I can measure,
So I know this isn’t terminal.

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