My body,
Is here.
Yet my mind,
Is lost.
My soul,
Frozen,
Covered in frost.
And though joy exists,
I simply do not.
My brain
In a mist,
As my heart does rot.

I have woken up,

where am I? In an ocean --


of sleeping silence?

see the emptiness
in between things and moments
your mind is right there

Melodies of my soul in soft dulcet tones,
play through my mind once more in the night,

Emotion vibrating through my very bones,
to keep me company until the mornings light.

Words in the shapes of harmony and verse,
that give voice to my heart in purest sound.

To speak of an empty lonely universe,
and of a love my spirit never found.

How can flesh endure when a soul cries,
in relentless voice, in such a sad refrain.

While lament will pass at suns early rise,
A lonely soul knows, the song will come again.

The feeling of neutral,
Is bleak and bland.

For I cannot fathom
This life of random.
This feeling of doom,

It is present
Yet seldom.

It is static
And paralytic.

I feel erratic.

Yet I am calm,
Content.

But my mind,
Unresponsive,
Perhaps braindead.

My sanity,
Decreased
To the thinnest thread.

As this feeling of neutral,
Has emptied my head.

when day breaks and brazen stands the sun
as if to say, it is day, the storm has passed
once more
you lay in a pool of soft sand, a whisper of what once was
fists clenching and unclenching
silence so deafening you ache
it feels so unpleasant, this ease
comfort was not meant for you, where do you even place yourself in a scene meant for someone else?
you make suffering your home
the cold tiles a cornerstone
but the suffering has ended in spite of you
of all your pleas to stay in a race for survival
trotting on battered rubble-bound roads
and despite it all
you are safe and free
the sun lapses in providing warmth
but never stills
and neither have you
before now

and yet
happiness does not creep in, nor does it knock
nor barges or in wanders
you are left empty in a filled space
almost to the point of combustion
and this is how you shall stay
shivering, the rays hurling themselves at any surface besides you
fruitless, the suffering meant so very little besides all that you knew
empty, just as the space next to you

he survives his story kept in boxes and knives
the dread of forgotten runes keeps him company
mother repression father night
emptiness surrounded by invisible walls
death a continent for the living

I am facing this vortex of muted music
with empty hands, despair and white hair
no solace for the unshed tears
everyday he tells me something
about nothing

I don't want you have no difficulty,
With the things you're still in motion for.
Likewise those you have emotion for,
Physical love. Those who came before,
Those you still adore, and new flames
You think offer more.