between the sound of wind and dead water awaits the chill of apathy, poc marked with disillusion
regalia, studded in reality
need is a riddle
so it should be worth the time it takes to inhale and asphyxiate from all the worst case scenarios
my tragedy i suppose
i don't really see the good in anything
is it worth the hope?
throw another branch into the fire while i try to touch the sky
try to sit down and never wonder why
i've had this lifelong numbing scene
sifting logic out among the screams
in my head
and i'm running out of patience because i hate running blind
it's all i can do to remain in view
feels like wasted time burning for a reason, still lost inside the dark charade
broken pen and a ruined page
when it isn't blank
and there's nowhere left to land
sitting, holding broken glass and head in hand
in the end
is where you'll find me
failing to see the bigger things in front of me and i swear to god i'm not the effect
but living as the cause is living with the shame of knowing that happens every time you open your mouth to speak
watching ships sink around your throne
leaving you standing in murky waters and fog alone
a problem dressed as a man of stone
and now i want enough to care
veils falling away from me when there's drugs to kill the pain
how do we ever feel the same
day to day we wash ourselves away in synthetic satisfaction now everyone's alone in their own way
cold in an old way
bring me change on the wings of my desolate wind
then let me carry it away
stakes and chains will help it stay
the screaming damned sing their screams of pretty drippy things entailed in the red tide
across the sand scoured waste and otherwise blighted blastlands of my head and mind
sometimes i wish i was blind so i could see more clearly
because it still feels like home
it's where i am when i feel alone
sitting holding broken glass and head in hand
it's where i'll be
© 2006 whisperer
Copying this work to another webpage without author permission is plagiarism.
Plagiarism is a misdemeanor, usually punishable by fines of $100-$50000 and up to one year in jail.
Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/4378/90719 on Saturday July 19th, 2008 12:41 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
Comments on why does this feel like forever