Oh muse, you are an unfaithful lover!
I gave my heart to you.
You've taken, it and skipped town.

Seven times repeated
waiting, burying
just enough to feel the fantasy.
You are almost gone.
Mentally stamp't
Formed and pressured.
Physically unreachable.

The touch of each
beat, hollow sound
and unknown awareness.
Relaxation is distant
due to
each cement wall
numb, wet, rapid
pulses.
We know what we want.
Comfort,
trust, physical
verbalization.
Eye contact, fingers
linked
slipped to the left
*passion.

There you are, still; untouched
By the wind, waiting for somebody
To save you from oblivion.  Your
Solitude  in time and space

Perpetuates memories of childhood,
Enough to engulf the eyes with tears
And the heart with hopes. In many
Times, the wandering whims of mind

Return to you like a tired traveler
Longing for rest and renewal. Because
Your presence is a poignant portrait of
Possibility and providential.

Cold liquid courses down your throat,
burning its path to your lungs.
Each breath hurts more than the last,
but you just can't bring yourself to care.
You trip and stumble and fall,
but you don't stop, because you know;
each step will take you farther away.
Your thoughts are jumbled,
flipping and vaulting through your mind.
Your vision is blurring,
fraying,
disintegrating.

"Mum, she's not breathing!"
What?
Why isn't she breathing?
"I can't find a pulse! **** it, mum!"
You blink and shake your head,
trying to force the coherent thoughts back.
Sirens.
Why do you hear sirens?
Another voice.
"Ma'am, do you know what she took?"
She overdosed?

"Mum! You were meant to watch her!"
Is that a stretcher?
Where are they taking her?!
Oh God, it's all coming back to you;
Cheating. Betrayal. Divorce. Her depression.
...she tried to **** herself?
Abort! Abort!
You can't handle this yet;
...just one more shot.

"How can you be drinking right now, mum?!"
Your daughter is fading fast,
her life hanging in the balance.
The pain is overwhelming you,
you just want it all to go away.
Is that how she felt?
Is that why she did it?
Maybe that's what you'll do;
you did always enjoy the oblivion...

I ask you kindly sir;
Take into consideration the marks
angry tears have left on my cheeks
Notice my blank stares and heavy eyes
Respond to the crack in my voice
and the shaking in my hands
Before you write me off as useless for good

I ask you kindly sir;
Before you mark my paper
with your snippy little pen
See the scars and bruises on my skin
and the pounding in my head
I beg of you;
Before you label me as lazy and arrogant,
know how it has felt to be me this past year

The dream I'm so desperately chasing,
My only remaining wish,
The one thing I would die for?
Not going to happen.
It's simple statistics.

The goal so near yet so far,
My only purpose in life,
The one thing I can't live without?
Not going to happen.
It's simple statistics.

The reward unlike any other,
My only hope and dream,
The one thing that actually matters?
Not going to happen.
It's simple statistics.

The most important thing,
My only remaining hope
The one thing I truly need?
Not going to happen.
*It's simple statistics.