the days blur of past visions
leaving you emotionally numb
and the nights are just another reminder
when the warped head games start to run



sitting, center stage
folded open for all to see
as the audience is one of many pieces
to the puzzle cast from thee

to be endless
to be fearless
save what’s left inside

feeling dead
among the living
if there were tears then one might cry

to believe
if but insane
as you knot tighter up inside

memory’s blackened eyes
... welted skin ...
further pushing the need to hide

shame and incompleteness
resonate within your stare
and the bottle a crude salvation
but at least it seemed to care

harshly lit, like an interrogation room
where all will become clear
they were sinners on a soap box
yet there’s nothing now to fear

as your hand shields your face
you individually scan each seat
slowly rising
deep breath in...



Can you dim the lights, please?
Dim the lights