Something too close to zero

I'm not dying, at least not in any radiologically visible sense. There is no growth in my lungs. Nothing wrong with the nerves in my spine. But even so, I am still left with nothing, only an 'its not this' that only fits into an equation that narrows down to more questions, ending once again in that look in their eyes of something like pity followed close on by an I dont know.

Blood On The Rise And It's Swallwed Me Whole/ You're The Vinyl That Fits

We never broke. The straw was never laid, but maybe we should have. Would we have been any worse off?
I have something inside, a space, much like an empty record cover. You fit it and fill it when you're here and I'm content. I try to fill the emptiness with things that never quite fit. I don't know whether seeing you is good for me or whether each time I do, the hole will grow with every time you leave. I feel, now you're gone again, like I'm going to implode. All that I am, rushing to fill what you seem to fit so well. Its a disruption in the balance of pressure. My mind is running a slide show, visions of submarines that have passed crush depth and it feels like me.

Come Fly With Me

Come fly, lets fly away...
I am in a state of tension. Strung out and flapping in the wind.