Monday, June 13, 2005
So close so sad so selfish
I'm close to it. I feel like I could step forward and grab the release. It almost feels like falling away. My arms are in a different place than usual. I tried it your way; that didn't work. I live on pills. I eat on pills. I sleep on pills. That's what I want more than anything. A long sleep that never really ends. How am I supposed to be enthusiastic about this lot? I've tried telling you what and how I feel, but understanding eludes me, no matter how many verses I pen to it. Nobody reads, and nobody cares. Patmos is the only one of you who even tries. The rest won't even observe my movements. If you've listened, and I'm sure you haven't, you should have seen this coming like I do. Don't tell me to relax, or be distracted. I'm here and I am not mute damnit. Each step I take leads closer to the rest. Take this; I don't want it anymore. I'm counting my evening pills, looking at the bottle of tranqs wishing, praying for something else, but we all know that won't happen.
1 comment:
Others care Thomas, but we may not know how to begin to assuage such a formidable and tenacious pain. You are most vocal regarding other's inability to understand the depth and breadth of what you suffer with--- And you have more than once bitterly lamented the banality of the words and sentiments that others proffer in what has amounted to feeble attempts to pry you from your well mired angst. Perhaps the few deeply sensitive souls who could very well reach you Thomas have been relegated to an empathetic but silent readership, awed by your obvious poetic genuis,reluctant to say what may you hear as; trite words empty words, or worse, words that fuel your hurt or ire..
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