I awoke covered in sweat,
The steam rising from my body,
The light skims in through the curtains;
A small murmur of breath escapes
Into the enormous solitude
As I think about all that is wrong
With me:
I panic because I'm depressed again,
The light is too far from me
And my body craves the dead mans sleep.
The silence is full of noise
And what I hear is myself thinking,
I cannot run away from thought,
The silence is deafening.
What can I do in my darkness?
Sadness of the abyss,
The hole inside me filled with
Sorrow's song.
And I break from myself,
I try to capture the positive attitude,
That foray into psychological betterment,
The ragged form of relief...
OK, I pick up my bones,
Flipping the switch I see my pen,
2a.m.,great wings of black full
Of my epileptic thoughts seize
The page, littered with pieces
Of me I fill the paper with shadows,
A simple verse will not suffice,
But the immenseness of emptiness
Has become full of something's
Verses, write away,
Write away the darkness....
It comes, it stays, it goes and flees
Hand in hand with your hope,
I reach out my hand and I cannot
Fathom the waters murky essense,
I want to be happy!
What does that mean?
The lights are there, but they seem
Faint and faroff, it swells my eyes,
The tears of an unending journey,
At times I smile at all the pain,
These words, these words of myself,
They sail inward, as if to the source,
The source of what?
I **** the lights after all the words
Have filled three pages,
They bled me dry,
Tears and ink mixed with pieces
Of my inner reflections,
Who will know or even care to read?
The thought scorns me,
I lay down, the silence grew silent,
A release of pain and sorrow,
That is my little death,
My little resurrection,
Everyday.
