Whips and Scorns

He tries to break through 
This veil of murky thoughts,
This lethargic disposition.
Bored of his awareness,
Unconscious to how he truly feels.
Focused only on escape
To elude this dull continuance.
Making sense of what is missing,
Of what holds back his expression.
Sifting through this heavy curtain
Dulls the senses and puts him to sleep
Where dreams do fail.
An empty slumber.
A barren nightmare.
He wakes to a kindred reverie,
Echoing his passive repose.
He chases faded memories of real life,
Outrun by everything that is not there.
It weighs down his insides.
His body sluggish
As he drags it forward,
Apathetic to his unknown destination.
He follows an ambiguous path,
Knowing he should trust in hope,
But filled with doubt from a misleading past.
He prays his history does not predict his destiny,
If a future for him truly does exist.
But time has made his faith in fate diminish.
When fog surrounds his line of sight,
Today cannot progress into the next.