I'm living under water,
Breathing my last breath,
I'm in a perpetual state of bardo,
My existence between life and death.
Alcohol isn't numbing,
I look for a harder fix,
I need to remember,
What a heartbeat feels like.
I look at self destruction,
The immolation of my soul,
As the sweetest form of poetry,
My symphony number 4.
I'm floating somewhere high,
Or is it down below?
Days and nights seem to fly,
Time has lost its hold.
Existentiality is fleeting,
Insomnia feels like a rabbit hole,
The falling lasts forever,
The end is invitingly close.
Voices seem to echo,
Faces seem to blur,
People melt into one another,
Is there someone knocking at the door?
The scabs seem to be growing,
Yet I don't remember getting hurt,
I scratch at nothing,
Is that where my skin was?
There's a battle every morning,
And as evening comes to a close,
I wonder if I've won this round,
Or lost the war of my world.
I'm diving into darkness,
Swimming to glint below,
But is that the stairway to heaven,
Or Hades final call.