Tuesday, April 20, 2010

What kind of dog did Hamlet have? A melancholy...

Head in the future, heart in the past.
So, where does that leave me?
Ghosting my way through life.
Present, but barely.

Stress leads to
and Doubt,
to Regret.
Pressure builds,
steps become labored,
breathing, a chore.

Until all that is left are memories;
skin kissed by sunshine,
and warmer still, a smile.
Radiant and true.

I miss
the feeling of ivory beneath my fingertips,
a song in my heart,
fresh lyrics upon my lips,
the smooth glide of pen to paper,
the easy flow of thought to word.

I feel
complicated and pressured,
Wrong and wronged.
Scarred and not good enough,
tried and Tired.

No coffee's ever strong enough
to wake my soul from fearful sleep.
There's no escape; nightmarish scenes
play, like horror flicks on repeat, across my mind.

The foe within, I can not conquer.
My heart's cry,
My waking dream,
My constant plea;

Give all.

Let go.

"Let be."
"Sleep, Don't Weep" Damien Rice
"Moving Pictures, Silent Films" Great Lake Swimmers

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