There’s no way of telling how many demons are at war, for beyond kindness, a man can be utterly consumed by despair. Despite the love you feel, to exist can be too much. Got to get out. Can’t keep on walking the thin line between heaven and hell anymore. Each day dissolving, swirling in the mire with no sense of perception. Suffocated senses, with no way of understanding what’s real or not. The road goes ever on. Past, present and future, merging into an endless mess of deceit. The maze of your mind crushed like a beetle beneath a stamping foot. Sometimes, no one can touch you. Reflections aren’t real. Images rendered null and void. No escape, only drowning. Lost in the woods with branches scratching at your arms. They trip you up and laugh as you stumble face first into the ground. Darkness replacing the light. Heavy hearts and spinning plates. A fractured body. A damaged brain split straight down the middle. Arrows always penetrate. They inflict from within and without. Sinking fast, memories of childhood appear so far away. When did life become so mundane? When did the magic we once hold, disappear without a trace?
Open mouthed and hungry, the days pass you by. Smoking for no reason, drinking to stop racing thoughts. Guilt and Pity etched into trembling hands. Tired and vacant, like a beggar out in the cold. Self-disgust and self-obsession stained into the clothes that wrap around your frail body. There’s no way of knowing how to tell the difference between what’s right and wrong. Choices have no meaning. Words lack substance. Good intentions left dangling in the wind. Colours and taste, absent like warmth. No structure or foundation, only a shrinking soul, growing smaller every hour. Need to find salvation. Some kind of faith. Collapsed in the emptiness of winter, spring seems a million miles away. Lovers blind to everything, wrapped in each others lies. Visions not worth seeing. Stories full of holes. No one knows what it feels like. How could they ever know, the ugliness that bubbles inside. Too many mistakes and regrets. Too many things gone wrong. This sadness, it never seems to shift. Sorrow as natural as the trees. Out of place, and out of time. A lone star. So distant and small.
Distorted dreams. Swallowing mouthfuls of air, with bones all bruised and hollow. Some kind of invisible man. Neither here nor there. Black dog, stalking footprints in the snow. On your shoulder, and waiting around every corner. Anxiety shovelled with the ashes of optimism. Buried like belief. Shadows realer than life. Hope left swaying in the basement forever unwell. Photos and blurred faces in the early hours with no scent of summer and only fires that burn out of control. The horizon never ends. Places always the same. The clouds whispering your name, showering you until you’re soaked to the core. A substance so lacking, unravelling as you spend countless days in bed. Sexless and distraught. Stomach pains mixed with nausea and defeat. Keep the curtains drawn. Speechless and on the brink. Stillness. Silence. Swimming with the angels. Haunted by ghosts. Inhale, exhale. Fingernails untrimmed. Clothes and skin unwashed. The clock on the wall, a teller of doomed indifference. Along with everything else, there’s no armour to keep it out. There’s just no way of being strong anymore.