Fractured mind;
tattered soul;
a body in ruin —
that’s me.

Morbid thoughts;
frozen heart;
bloated fingers —
that’s me.

Despair and hope.
Love and hate.
Cruel tenderness —
that’s me.

A smoking gun,
a flawed someone
perfectly imperfect —
that’s what I want.

One of these days, happiness shall be mine.
The clouds will disperse, sunshine will come to stay.
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Sometimes it is easy, it is hard sometimes.
If ever I start doubting myself, I simply say,
“One of these days, happiness shall be mine.”

Every once in a while, I can’t help but resign
myself to fate. Yet, I know I will be better the next day.
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

Every blow, every bruise I receive  is just a sign
that my struggle is worth it. I will find my way.
One of these days, happiness shall be mine

There is no way to decrypt destiny’s design;
To keep from drowning, to keep the fear at bay
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

What keeps me going is the belief that I will be fine.
When everything’s said and done, I will be okay.
One of these days, happiness shall be mine,
I need only keep a weather eye on the silver line.

What
next?
Always
the question
that keeps me awake
at night; troubled during the day.
Consumed by this exhausting, insatiable hunger
to decipher the mysteries of a nebulous future, I find it mighty hard
to take a deep breath, look around, notice all the colors and revel in the beauty of how far I have come from the shadows of my past.

It’s frightening how
a word from you
can lift me from
the depths of despondence.
Your absence,
even for the briefest time period,
can leave me agitated,
a quivering mass of nerves.
Occasionally,
for a mad moment,
I yearn to show you
how completely you own me.
It passes…
You can never know
of the incredible hold
you have over me.
I fear
all the violently wonderful
feelings I conceal
will one day
cause me to implode.
But then
you look at me
with such stillness,
I feel see-through.

Of course you know.

I know
I’m in love
when once again
the colors start to sing
for me.

Today was nothing more
than a woeful echo
of my life yesterday.
And the same is true for
every day I have lived
ever since I gave up.

I don’t remember
what led me down this
lonely desolate
path of nihilism,
of self-destruction.

I don’t recall
a time I felt
differently.
Blank mind. Blank walls.

So I wait,
stoic, numb,
as silence

descends
upon

me.