As I lay here on my bed
My soul is falling
Down
Into a deep deep pit

No

Not falling
My soul IS the pit
And I fall into it
I am not drowning in my fear
Rather I see it as a marinade
Of gasoline and gunpowder
I dwell in it, soak it into my skin
And wait for the match to light

As I sit here
My arms and head are heavy
Though my eyes leave the ground
They always return swiftly
I no longer can look into your eyes
With confidence
I feel I have failed you
More than the rest
More than myself

I see you
And my whole being shakes with envy
My stomach is twisted with jealousy
All that I desire in life
You have
I find no solace in slumber
No respite in my dreams
Night after night
Week after week
I dream of my failures
I'm haunted by the ghosts of my shortcomings
And wounded by your spectre of success.