The world is a busy place,
A billion souls crawling over each other,
It saps ones energy,
At times we must be alone,
To recuperate away from others,
Like slipping into a soothing mudbath,
Just you and the mire,
Recharging under the sodden surface,
Only bubbles for company,
Vitamins to the skin,
Minerals to the soul,
Being alone in this mud,
It’s not loneliness,
There’s therapy in the silence,
In the muck,
If only for a little while.
It rains upon me often,
Like a migraine that won’t pass,
This heavy cloud,
It used to bother me,
Send chills all over,
Summon the darker aspects in my mind,
But no more,
Now it is just so much mist,
The sorrow is naught more than vapour,
I learned something you see,
Showers are intermittent,
And the sun always arrives anew,
Resting above me,
The rain may drench my face,
But I brought an umbrella,
And even in this sick world,
Rain doesn’t last forever.
I feel as if I’m in an ice age,
My own arctic circle,
Turning cold after a long temperate season,
A period of social mosquitoes and foul gelato,
The climate had to shift,
Now I spy people through ice sheets,
Natures looking glass,
I see how they were melting me,
Diluting me,
Making campfires under my esteem,
So I’ve grown wintry in reciprocation,
Yet I am not heartless,
For the right souls I will thaw,
But I’ve been too summery for some,
Those who wouldn’t brave a blizzard with me,
I don’t want your Titanics to strike me,
Disturbing my icy peace,
My encased heart,
I’m no longer your iceberg,
No longer your undeserved warmth.
Don’t wake me,
Leave me to doze,
Leave me in this oasis of Nyx,
In this soothing coma,
Entwined in the dark,
Don’t let the day start,
Don’t let it get the hooks in,
I don’t want to lose the dreams,
The euphoria of those brainwaves,
Real life simply cannot match them,
The waking world offers no substitute,
Don’t wake me,
Please,
Just let me slumber,
Just five more minutes.
I’ve been running this process awhile,
Inhaling and exhaling,
I could pass for a technician,
No crashes so far,
Yet an anomaly has arisen,
A glitch in the machine,
Some entity has grabbed my attention,
Seizing my cursor,
A brunette beauty,
Pixels all in the right places,
She makes me feel almost human,
Replacing quicksilver with flesh and blood,
But there’s an internal error,
A spiteful little line of code,
Telling me,
I best shutdown these feelings,
Pull the plug,
Before karma catches up,
I am yet a machine,
So perhaps I ought click OK,
One doesn’t deserve romance,
So I’d better shut it down.
The year begins,
And something undiplomatic hits me,
A tumultuous thought comes,
A violet lightning bolt,
An unwelcome item on the docket,
Why not learn to forgive?
I try,
Yet the emotion dare not come,
I am no diplomat,
Not some meek emissary,
It shall not happen,
Even if barbarism be considered my virtue.
In the minds of each person,
Pauper or prince,
There is an attic door,
Usually hidden,
Barred by clutter and cobwebs,
An oubliette in mental style,
What does it contain?
Who can know?
The answer is myriad,
For one it may contain a void of black,
Your fear in billow form,
This loft could hold monsters of all moulds,
Slashers and dragons and sphinxes,
Perhaps an imprisoned and decrepit facsimile of oneself,
Moaning out in your voice,
Why does it exist?
Does this attic incarcerate evil?
Or does it merely hide a part of ourselves?
Yesterday has passed the torch,
The hurricane has subsided,
And we sit amongst the wreckage,
The mess we lived through,
Fractured rubble and scrap metal,
Broken toys and ruptured sinew,
A clutter of blood and alloy,
Now it’s a new day,
We try to put it all back together,
Giving it a go,
Sticky tape and rivets,
Sewing limbs and organs back on,
Welding and patching up the chassis,
Shoring up the heart and mind,
We can always rally and rebuild,
Yesterday resulted in debris,
But today,
Today we try again.
The hour grows dire,
I retreat to my crib,
And yet my mind swims,
Drenched in a cornucopia of thought,
Unable to switch off,
To finally drown in the dark,
No degree of comfort seems to help,
Even Lady Lunar cannot assist,
Restrained from me by overcast skies,
I’m floating on a sea of gloom,
Intermittently hounded by the phone screen,
An unwanted lifeguard in this tide,
I need to sleep,
To descend,
Before the sunrise burns my bloodshot eyes.
My friend,
I know that you’re suffering,
Wounded,
Ambushed by chance,
You were gut punched,
Ran through,
Left in a crater,
But you’re still on your feet,
You’ve been a soldier this far,
The best people are,
It’s true that you’re in pain,
And it’s true that the war rages on,
Time never ceases those dire barrages,
This is an uphill battle,
It’s true,
Life always was,
But you can do it,
You can rally,
You’re not alone on the frontline,
There’s a whole host behind you.
WorldofHarley 