Cry for Help

 

I ponder life -- my brain bulges.

My only endeavor, chasing the abyss.

Is this life?

My entrails empty,

I am hollow,

a clock with no hands.

 

When did a void enter my life?

Empty efforts led to joyless journeys.

Every day,

 a page flipped without reading.

My future lost to yesterday’s failures.

I wrapped myself in my invisible cloak,

protection from ruining my realm.

 

I am grey paint, flaking, fading, foiling.

My eyes do not cry.

I long for a cure,

a dream deserted years ago.

My eyes, I fear, are too fogged to see,

and resist,

afraid to abandon the despairs warmth.

 

I do not want to get off my worn grey couch.

Am I too late for life?

Do I want to go out again?

Deep inside me a little voice screams;

“Get up! -- Move! -- Now!”

This life without passion – is no longer minewanted.

 

Is anyone out there to hold my hand?

To tender a word of hope?

All I ask is a yellow spark,

no,

a word of hope.

Lie to me. Lie to me!

Do not allow truth

to run me under.

Yank me away,

or I am finished.