Into the Night

deathly

The nights burn, and the mornings drown. All those discoveries made in drunken seas of creation, forever lost the minute my eyes open to face another day. The lonesome hours of the evening take me on a journey. They show me things others can’t fathom. The stars in the sky watch as my body dissolves revealing the truth of what I am, and yet everything is the same when morning comes calling once more. All is lost, the magic dispersed. As I sit on the edge of the bed drinking a cup of tea, thoughts of giving up wash through my mind like turds flushing down a toilet. The struggle never eases. There’s never an end in sight, no sense of calm that will take me to safety. It’s a constant war with no outcome. Echoes of failure in the air I breathe, I’m haunted by love and loss and the feeling that this has all been for nothing. At work, the doubt lingers on. The force that drives me, the force that destroys me. They say do what you love, but what if what you love is what you hate? An invisible war behind cold, blue eyes. Anxiety as the circle repeats day after day. I’m getting closer, yet still so far. People are pushed aside. Health neglected for the sake of madness. There’s a thin line between effort and obsession, and I’ve already lost sight of it. It’s happened before, and now it’s happening again. Losing myself to my creations, to words that I fight so hard to conjure from deep inside. To open up my chest and put them down on paper leaves me exhausted. It’s what I crave, and yet what I detest. The darkness keeps me safe from defeat, then the light holds a mirror to my face and mocks me for the what I keep so close. Echoes of all that I am, left dangling in the harsh wind of a self contained storm. Desire and lust. Just a boy wishing to keep life from becoming a bland tale told by so many others. A teller of stories. A lover of all that never was. It makes me wonder. It takes my hand and leads me to a field of crows and corn and all that ever tickled the angels and demons that fly within this mess of what others call a man. Freedom not out there, but within. Forever in a smile. Forever in the footsteps through thick and thin.

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