Poetry and Shit

Jul 13, 2005 at 22:43 o\clock

untitled

Mood: feel like shit
Listening to: Ride The Wings Of Pestilence by From First To Last

 Darkness has fallen; sleep now calls,
So I start silently through the halls.
A vision flickers in front of my eyes,
This image I wish I could despise.

I try to close my eyes only to see you still,
I cannot let paranoia bend me to its will.
I blink once, twice, I still see you there,
A third time, and you fade into the air.

Panic tries to grip me, but I move on,
Aware that your ghostly presence has not gone,
Attempting to reach sanctuary where I’m protected,
That corner in my mind where I am unaffected.

Your face fills the walls now becoming a blur.
I long for the blank walls, as they once were,
But that lurking smile and knowing gaze,
Only manages in luring me further into this maze.

Repeatedly seeing you, just a figment, that’s it,
As the pain ebbs away at my heart, bit by bit.
This unreality mocks me, drawing tears,
This unreality that feeds on my fears.

Suddenly, as a stray tear hits the floor,
I find myself at refuge’s door.
A second later I lie safe in my bed,
Yet I can’t seem to rid myself of this dread.

My eyes flutter closed only to open,
As my serenity is just as quickly broken.
A scream is caught in my throat as I see,
There you are once again, lying next to me.

I can’t seem to have a single moment of peace,
Not even in my asylum do I have release,
From the endless hauntings of your ghost,
Yet the unreality is what hurts the most.

I loathe these mirages that do not exist,
Yet these images continue to persist.
I long to rid myself of you but I find,
It is truly impossible to escape from my mind...