07 May 2011

An Insomniac's Soliloquy

The sorrow becomes more tangible 
as the persephonic desperation is intensified by medean hatred. 
At this point, one can feel the exhaustion from the simplicity of thoughts that linger. 
Such imagined near and far futures can slice to an unendurable depth. 
The painful paranoia of the present makes it even worse.

And 'tis not the least bit comforting to know that the bittersweet happy ending 
shall remain to be so frustratingly elusive. 
With that, pour in the numbness to fill the open wounds. 
Tonight, I smile for the tear that never fell.

Sweet dreams, unlit cigarette. 
I'll have you in the morning.

(16 June 2009)

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