Arms flung apart, wide,
I take in the paralysis of my mind.
Blaring fast rhythms are what I use
To overpower the melancholic strain -
The pain of the cords of some
Broken lyre, the soft whine that
My vocals deliver - I mask them;
Hide them inside cracked walls,
And chambers within a long maze.
Amaze myself at the fallacy
Of the sunshine I show; curtains drop
Affront those clawing shadows.
Confronting my ghosts, I hear
The rip-tear-crack of my bones
Caught in a tug of faces-places.
I know naught of their push or pull
Or of the many unspoken warnings.
I dream of oblivion, a black death,
An absence of script, and
The presence of sanity. Do I
Wish or Pray
Or while away
Time, and plead defeat,
As life passes by,
Saying its quick good bye?
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