I was asked to explain what I mean by
"Dead Inside"
Typically I pawn off a joking motion
waving my marionette arms
to hide the rabbit in the hat
I adequately nick-named misery
because it keeps me company.
But if you sawed me in half
I'm quite certain all you will find
inside is a silhouette of  man
dancing around in a light box
doing the same fruitless jig over and over.
A couple of loose strands
and a few holes in the images
but the end is the beginning
and I am putting on a show for you all now.
The curtain is  my mouth
strung so tight you'd think it was a smile
And the words I say spin round and round
not a genuine frown in sight.
The light may be on inside
but the picture never seems to change
day after day,
collect the pieces off the floor
get up,
fall in love,
trip over the same type of girl
have my heart shatter into pieces
fall back down on the side of the road
remember how uselessly alone I am;
rinse and repeat.
This is paper thin love
and see through expectations that will not fail.
And it doesn't matter which way you spin it.
Its A tragically bad silent comedy
that doesn't need a narrator to explain
Just how miserable the person inside really is.
My heart is just a silhouette of a man
and if you think you can put some tangibility
behind it and not have it shatter into 1000 pieces.
Congrats you too have joined the circus.
and spin round and round in my light box.

Wave after wave we rode the highs,
Steadying our footing before the next rise,
It all crashes into laughter and the salty foam,
Time flew by as the clouds framed the setting sun,
Lighting our path as the time came to head back home.

I lived in the fleeting moments loving the rush of being alive,
Forgetting about the dark night that lay over the horizon,
As we crossed the threshold back into our abode,
The interlude ended as the last light receded from the windows,
Leaving me in unattended in the murk of my thoughts.

Unequipped for the blackness that glared at me,
I searched for a glimmer of a forgotten dream,
There was once a fire that shone bright my hopes & ambitions,
Not even embers remain that I may stoke a new flame,
Aimlessly I move through the motions of the daily mundane.

Slowly collapsing under the unbearable weight,
Wishing that I could find meaning in life,
Or give up altogether and end it tonight,
"Why am I even here?" Echoes back at me from the dark,
I fear there is nothing else left for me here.

and you wonder why your soul is dead inside.

Under this surface devoid of substance,
The days are a joyless existence.
Dispatch the sleeping pill,
Shelter me from ill will.
Slip away without resistance.

The familiar is all but lost
Relegated to monochromatic melancholy
This place holds no joy
Once soothing, now both dull and lifeless
This is not my happy place
This is not my comfort zone
This place holds no peace
Backed into a box of light gray
Shhh...
Don't speak, lest you be heard
Don't watch, lest you be seen
Don't care, lest you be hurt
This place holds no love
A hint of freedom long gone
An air of acceptance
Lured by what once was
This place holds remnants of a dream

i spend my days lying down, motionless
for hours, staring at this too familiar ceiling

i spend my days doing nothing, brought by
a crippling inability to speak what I mean
or do what I wish (on things that matter
most to myself)

i spend my days reacting to your slightest movement,
with a doll's passivity bordering on disgusting

i spend my days being a mere watcher, a witness
to the wonder of how beauty grows

you are a sight to behold
and it must be such joy to be held

but i'd rather spend my days lying down, motionless
trying **** hard to dream of you
(but only nightmares come through)

I'm sure I heard it
Did you ?
The snap or was it a clap
Can't tell it's been too distorted and echoed around my empty soul
Or rather this husk of what I used to feel: the love the triumph the passion the validation .

Now I'm sure I heard it or was it you clicking and praising my words yeah maybe that's what I heard no I can feel the sinking this hole in my chest I can't listen to my heart it's voice has be laid to rest six feet is quiet a feat.

There it is again
no that was just a ding for an idea or a notion pleading to me to take action but this is a fallacy, a distraction
I'm ignoring the signs to busy thinking what is mine rather then keeping what was mine now I'm left with nothing

ahh

There it is, that distinctive ring

listen...

The timbre is right I can hear the angels sing.
this cold unloving content or is it fury I can't know surely but this time, this time.. I heard the snap of my mind

It sounded like click  . clack . **bang