Lucky

Blurry eyes, swirling tides;

lucky just to be alive.

Surviving long enough to find

that this should come as no surprise.

Look me in my black-burned eyes

and tell me again my words are lies.

Tell me again that it's all in my head,

that my legs can't lift me from this bed.

These whispers that tell me I'm better off dead

over spending another day unfixably afflicted

with demons within the skin I shed

until every damn one one of them's been bled,

drenching my arms in black and red.

And yet they know me better than you ever did.

I'm actually beginning to prefer their company

to the empty, masquerade camaraderie

I used to clutch to like it was the remedy

to my withering, chalk-dust humanity.

The funny thing about solitude

is that you can always trust in it's verisimilitude.

Whether or not the words themselves are true

it's hard to deny what you say to you.

These days, I'm my own devil's advocate -

and maybe he's got the right of it.

Why bother trying to give a s**t

when the only reward is the embrace of regret.

I'd rather use my waning strength to create,

forging together all the things I hate

into a voice that doesn't hesitate

to leverage the overwhelming weight

of a soul that's learned how to quietly break

to the syncopated rhythm of heartache.

Over it's own corpse, I'll desecrate

the bones and blood of my former fate.

My last ditch effort to finally relieve

the fire from which I have no reprieve.

A pain that words can hardly conceive

that leaves me to question why I continue to breathe.

But so long as I keep scratching this page wearily,

maybe find an hour of sleep occasionally,

I guess I'll postpone that trip into infinity,

in order to chronicle this journey of lucid lunacy.

Lucky me.

Reviews

[Somu]

Great poem.....i love the way it sounds. and if you got some time check out some of mine.