this is where i sit

this is where i sit like stone,

knowing soon it shall be over,

all balled up and all alone,

wreathed in sickly crimson clover;

in a corner cold and stark,

where the pressure chokes my chest,

my mind's eye fizzles into dark,

i cannot eat nor find sweet rest.

i no longer see the pathways,

where i have strolled past fields of pain,

cloaked in shadowed sunless days,

walking weary in the chilling rains;

of torrid teardrops that always fail to fall,

stuck inside behind my bloodshot eyes,

between sight and dreams i scarce recall,

haunted by the sounds of ghostly cries.

i no longer feel the passions,

i had once did cling,

for there no longer comes a need to rise,

or open my mouth to sing.

____

I sit:

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