i am a hollow prayer, and prayers were never meant to be hollow. i am an empty word, but empty words will never speak. my hopes, my desires return to me from the distant reaches of my soul. echoes reverberating off of walls, but walls have no place in souls.
so now i place before you this rope, these words from which my lifeless flesh will hang. do not try to stop me. lift up the rope, and tie a noose round my neck. read them and see me so that i may finally finish dying.
you have not seen me yet. you do not know me. i would never let you near. i would have died. i would have crumbled away before your eyes.
what a strange blessing that might have been. i was a hollow prayer. i was an empty shell of a man, a soul with walls.
have i ever really lived? have i ever really loved? you were an it to me, an object i offered as evidence that i could love. but i let us die, i would have let you die, so that i would not have to bleed, so that i would not have to love.
tighten the rope. kick the chair from under my feet, and watch my fleshly shell writhe.
and i will write, i will live. my words will finally speak. my prayers will not echo across an empty soul; but they will find their way to the tip of my tongue, to the edge of my fingers, and to the ears of my God.
