From my death bed

You're killin' me man!

I would give you anything you need,
but you do not need me yet and I am numb to almost anything or anyone.

My eyes are so fixed on you that I see little else even though I techinically see everything.

I am getting closer.
Every second, I am drawing closer to that dream that never sleeps.
Shallow breathing of slumber cannot hide what you seek to hide.
Sometimes I wonder if hiding was ever intentional at all. It is like hiding under the table in plain sight and no one looks there.

How many fingers are you waving infront of my face? It used to be funny to pretend I saw you, but unlike Indiana Jones, I never made that leap of faith, but won't it suprise you when I grasp your hand. But, that is too forward, just thinking about something else...

My source was trusted entirely, never questioned, but in other matters I was warned never to trust that river of delusional waters.
I supposed my heart has always been quick to embrace fellow delusions.
I even believe that the things I see are what they ought to be, but I really ought to know better.

So, it ends. Not how I imagined, but I must not give the very strength I need to survive.

Man, you're killin' me.

Wait. That was the idea all along, huh?