These curtains are faded, and shiney
The colour still vibrant in the hidden folds
Like a taunt - hidden from the light,
The air, and still perfect.
Just, gently billowing, in streams of freezing air,
chinks of light sliding along the walls
And over my arms, and face.
Blocks of altered colour and intensity,
So brilliant that they burn black.
No brightness. Just empty, dank
Black.
No radiance left in light these days.
The night seems lighter, clearer,
More clarity at least.
Long and time consuming and dull.
12.30 pm, just waking, with a headache, pounding.
[im more awake at 3am than now]
Each pound running words and thoughts and images
Through me. shaking me.
And still - its doesn't matter.
It really, doesnt matter. Nothing does.
Moving at one fifth of the speed. Can barely walk.
The eternal ball, proped up on cold pillow that burn my face.
And drinking scalding tea that turns me to ice.
Just one of a million doing the same.
Nothing past the door, nothing past the duvet.
But I have to switch the light on to go out there.
And its still clawing at me from the corners.
Chewing on my ears and stoking my back.
That is not a wanted tongue.
[Rest easy - I'm still buzzing]
There isn't a real fear there.
A numbness, echoing over my ears like a heartbeat
Pushing against the walls and dislodging the plaster
So that my wrists are scraped against the brick.
The only thing I can feel,
really feel, is anger.
Consuming and terrible and a rage just waiting to choke this corpse
And lead out to play with the others.
Creaking on the landing that makes my heart stop.
Shuddering.
This is just too hard.
Why can't I just kick out?
Kick out against this wall of - of, nothingness.
Chipped nails, and bleeding fingers
Clawing away and getting nowhere at all.
Just deeper - just one of many, digging down.
And cold. Nothing, nothing but cold.
There is no compassion left.
No feeling.
No love. THis is just the motions, schedualed tasks
And pre-progammed functions.
No love no will no cheer.
And I want it back.
You're all strangers to me now.
And I'm having to hold onto myself because I'm here.
And I can't I don't know how.
But there's nothing else to grasp at.
Holding onto nothing better than a whisp of smoke.
Because you're all backing away.
And I don't know you.
I can't see you, or picture you.
Or feel you.
I want it back, I want it all back.
Light to be light and dark not to be me.
Though we're all slightly in love with it.
Its the depth, the sheer depth of it.
And its stranglehold on us all.
Caught in the frozen trap.
So this is one last push
Last try,
Last shot at the end, the front, the start.
Spending life searching for a corpse
A soul already dead.
Who's ache, is slowly bleeding me dry.
Body, listlessly bloating
And dead eyes burning in the dull glare
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