Well, I've hit the emotional bottom.
Haste the hollow days.
A puppet's strings.
Moving in fictitious rhythm.
Unable to stand, limp legged catastrophe.
I scream for the end of me.
Nailed carcass to a dirty floor.
Demons dance.
Laugh with such disdain.
Oh, they dance.
Across barren body with blistered feet.

I spoke out in anguish.
You'll never see my defeat.
A golden heart rusts.
The demons keep dancing.
Dragging dream and sensibility to the desert sands.
Delving deep into souls and hands.
A lie fits like thread through the needle's eye.
A fantasy has left me blind with sleepless nights.

Waking with weight, alone and heavy.
Only past sees light I wish for now.
And shadow holds reflection for longer than the day.
Give me breath.
In need of space.
Confidence ran dry.
An abandoned sower.
Left to the fields.
Spoiled fruit reaped from rotten trees.
Salvaging sown seeds.
Apathy breeding weeds in reluctant soil.
Every stalk is met with steel.
Scorching sun gives a moments life to those in disbelief.
Whilst expectant roots fall in fear upon the shale.

My past has got the best of me.
I live with false and fake.
Everything's at stake.
Yet I can't seem to move these bones.
A littered grave.
Of memories and mistakes.
In fear of repetition, I see them wake.
Eyes rip soul from skin.
These days are harder than they've ever been.
Whether crime or sin.
I am left to listen to the erratic sum of all my years.

A mother's heart and a masochist's wit.
The sparrow against the gales.
Deserter to your own will as you give up and stand still.
Cast aside, for you lack the strength for thrill.
Others falter, others fail.
Yet reside now in the warmth of your own discomfort.
See how the hourglass spends the time.
No bias, no grace.
A relentless race and quickened pace.
Knowing all that stands now is the means.
Anticipation and apprehension get their end.
And with choice is how they leave you.
In a last seconds glance, collapsed in weight so heavy.
You will know what it is you carried, in the dimness of the day.

A lanterns light protrudes from precious eyes.
Daughter dancing in vivid space.
She runs anxiety to the ground, and it roots into a tree.
Not of death, but sweet melody.
For it was peace she sowed.
And I being slow, have come to see her grow.
Betwixt between seen and unseen.
Rare as precious stone cut from the earth, she is all I search for.
The deepest of colors streaked like veins beneath the skin.
Oh how I wish to see her live and lavished with these arms.
But again the winds are passing.
Persuading mere thought and thesis of a harkening desire.
A molding trough from which to taste, yet it is substance I require.

Patience be the only remedy for a heart that conspires.

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