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I have been walking around town calling out my name
Been struggling hard to carry my soul's weight.

I am exhausted to my bones
And all I know is
The urge to scream until it can consume me,
Erase my existence.

I halt at the sea to sit down
The moon within my touch.
A night passes or maybe two
While i sit with the stars,
The sky at my feet.

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I sit in the farthest corner I find
Out of reach of light
Before the peices fall out;
Before I break from a touch.

Dark silhouettes on my door, headless,
Approach me in a silent dance;
The curtains rock to the still music of air:
I am hiding under my table as they come,
I would be underneath the floor if I could.

I am here now,
Contained in halves and fractions,
Taping the edges and again.
Watching them reflect a black rainbow.

The trees rustle outside-
Conversations in hushed tones.
The continuous siren of the crickets are a mute assurance.
I wait for it all to hold together and take shape
Which one, I seem to have forgotten.

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On these endless roads i stand
With no place else to go to
No turn in sight that i know is the right path to take.
What do I do?

A day passes or maybe two
Before I decide to keep one foot in front of the other.
My eye on the far edge of the horizon
On what I can't see but I know is there.

I might not know where I am headed to
But neither do these roads.
Still, they find someplace to lead to
Maybe in the hope of finding new turns
Maybe of making some themselves.

I decide to keep them company.

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And so i have shut the door and closed myself in,
But tell me, why won't you knock, just this last time?

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And what do you do when the lights finally go off?
Is it darkness that you see in the night
Or is it the pieces of you that you broke off in the day, coming back to pick you apart?

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Why do I feel so punished in existence?
This relentless pain of having to contain this raging scream inside me.. will it ever cease?

When do I stop feeling so hopelessly trapped under wide open skies?

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It all seems too much to me sometimes
To wake up and walk and exist.
I would rather sink down to nothingness
Or be kidnapped by the moon perhaps,
To be done away with and buried deep in the sky.

But I am forced to wake up
And get up
And walk around
And do things
And to keep doing them at all times.

I can't afford to stop and give it thought
I have to keep moving
Because if i don't, i know it will all break down in a thousand different ways from a hundred different places.

I might not be able to assemble the pieces all over again.

Yes,
To keep moving would be the best
Might be forward or backward
As long as it leads to the cease of this pain, this existence.
To sit down would be to trigger the forces
To give it the final touch that breaks it all
In one big, fiery spidery web of despair.
— % &

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Two silvery eyes of the sky are boring into mine
As I sit here, conversing to them, in the shadow of their guarded gaze
Seemingly penetrating straight into my soul.

An interruption-
Some thoughts, dead, come floating towards me out of the corners of air
I try and hold them close in my hands, struggling against their thin, crumbling state.
I let go after a while,
Because.

Now, some ghosts, undead, are swaying the trees in distance
As I sit here in their warm, embracing protection
Talking to those wise, lively eyes out in the sea of dark.

Abruptly, the stillness of the air grips me
Shaking me out of my richly lived escape.
I extract myself from the dreams and walk home.


But only after a last shared joke, a wink.

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She was what screams are made of.

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