Unfresh Air

I must put you first, you King.
At times it hurts, but it�s easy.
Why do you say it hurts, that it aches, I�m just speaking my mind.

Miracles do happen. But what is a miracle?
Why don�t you tell me Mr. Laughter.
�Miracles are the unexplainable that defy the natural rules of gravity and the functions of the body�.
So why is it then that Mrs. Sadness explained it and I knew what the hell she was talking about.

Can one person be right, as one is wrong.
Did you know that, did you know this.
Did you know that you know nothing.
All this and possibly that just equals�.possibly.
Screw possibly. I need the eternal. Something constant that is always there. And I need it now more than ever.
Because I am sick and tired of lying in graves and worrying if you give a damn.
Because I give a damn!
So much so that I am damned by me giving a damn.
�Damned for all eternity� and all that.
Well this grave feels like eternity now, and afterlife is far off but way to close like a mirage.
A mirage like a ghost who weaves so much anxiety in my stomach that the only by-product is that I turn this desert into a sea with these evil tears I have for you.

Reviews

[Damien Dsoul]

Is this a poem? I can only ask becaue it feels more like lines off a Shakesperan play, more like conversation taking place between two persons, much if it revolving around one thing: the roaming uncanniess of Life.