realizing stuff

I think of you and all the places you're visiting
the statues you're photographing
the sour candies you're tasting
and the endless sunsets you're staring at
with the head over someone else's shoulder.
then, suddenly, I think of myself
and the nothingness I have.
blind as a monster, I still crave for something
that it's not in you, or in anything else
and maybe that's why i'm still dying
a long and meaningless death
each and every day.