at the edge

i sit here at the edge of the carpet,
  editing my life on
    mere whims.
i seek through the crawl space of life
endlessly looking for a meaning,
singing out my songs
to the deaf passerbyers-
where has my heart gone?
burnt to ashes,
and riding on the
    wind,
i have tasted hell,
  and lived in palaces in
      heaven,
though nothing has ever been enough.
one moment this will all be gone,
and my soul will be free of this hardening flesh.
oh these walls i have built,
    and this guilt
    that i carry,
will be with me till i am burning in the flames.
i sit at the edge of the carpet
    waiting for my grandma to call me to dinner,
though she lays in the ground dead 13 years-
    now i just wait for you  too look me in the eyes
        and hold me till i am free.