Dead to the World

Dead to the World
by
Ashes


Today is a day of deadness. Cups of coffee, a pack of cigarettes to stimulate me back into this world and nothing helps. The meds, well I am sure some of you know how little they help, how really few of us they help.

Days like this and my dull brain ponders alcohol. Last night I dreamed of being drunk. Booze never helped of course. It often did make me forget the deadness. I miss that part.

Days like this, the RAGE boils beneath the surface and blinds my teary eyes.

Days like this, I stay inside, away from real people.

Days like this I pine for pine, opiates or pot and wish I could live in Holland where these are easier to come by. Through a glass darkly, clouded eyes, clouded spirit. Nepenthe, where art thou?

Don't knock or call on these days.

Perhaps a brief email. There might be enough of me to ponder and respond, maybe not.

Maybe the sun will rise on the morrow or never rise again and stain my spirit with its light, sear my soul and close this world forever.

And it returns again and again. And I forget. And it returns to remind me.

The smell of the graveyard looms. The trees nearby are withered and ashen. There is in the distance the call of forever in the drum beat of that so different drummer.

Stay the day?

For us with IT at our throat draining joy like a sponge takes blood.