alone and cold
on a warm summer day
bleeding my ever breeding thoughts

caught in a storm
a thousand miles away from home

breaking down
every brick and stone

for there are no windows
here in this room
where the gloom blooms
another melancholic day

far away from reality
in midst of a whisper

dying every so slowly
as the cells in my brain wither

waiting for a winter
to bring me back to
the room temperature

so i can shed my skin
and paint myself with ink
on these empty pages of a story
that i'll never write

night after night
just turning the pages

bright lights and confused
pretending to die with every breath

with monsters in my head
and poison mixed in my soul

reading words
of those other poets
that'll never know of my name

such a shame
for together we could've
completed each other

without ever saying a word.