stuck in my head again,
nothing seems real.
life sheds its skin
on my lazy boy chair.
flashing pictures on the tv,
pacifies the pain.
as long as I keep the thoughts at bay,
the darkness sorta goes away.

remember the insults
you spit at me?
I do.
never stopped to think,
something else could be wrong.
you always say it has to be me
so you put on your shoes,
pick up your things,
kiss my head,
and close the door on another day.

you suffer for my torment.


©2006 Dead Men Publishing