In the abyss of memories, I stay rooted, collapsed into exhaustion
You are
nowhere to be found,
Sun cannot
shine in this bit of battlefield of snippets of happy times.
I am
clutching this book again,
Ready to
relive what was, like a fly in the cobweb of what could have been,
Overthinking
every action, every word’s hidden meaning.
Conversations
on repeat, the outcome - still the same.
Tears falling
like spring streams,
At least
I have survived.
…
Growling
voices surrounding me,
Inner demons
surface from underneath a troubled mind.
Their company
is what I enjoy best,
Dancing with
the cruel beast in the rhythm of lost souls
Vibrant
tunes, ugly faces – they are still mine.
Dark fantasies
played before these blue eyes,
Restless
is the hearth.
…
In the
end the morning comes to undo what the night knitted under its voidness,
Silence will
never be my friend, serves me nothing but distress.
If the
thoughts can burn then I am already in ashes
Willing to
fly when morning breeze is ready to play.
If the
feelings are tides, then I am at bottom of the emotional ocean,
Buried tempests
and outer freezing gusts – this is what I have become,
Still turning
the pages of the book of life I have written when I mattered most
Now a
cherished treasure, like a reflection in the mirror never telling lies but yet
never speaks the full truths;
Lookalike
wearing the best mask while hiding the rotten images of poisoned consciousness.
I drift
in daydreams, lost in the countless unchosen paths of coming back to my senses,
Yet without
my shadows I am utterly incomplete.
I keep
writing chapters of my unnamed self until I break fully down,
Until I give
up the final spark of the soul I still cling to.
