Monday, April 7, 2008
Welter in my own sweat, weltering and weltered.
Peevish I am, untouchable by hands, untouchable by words and silence.
Something is inside of me, something I can feel.
A hunk of peace, a piece of riot; and yet, nothing makes sense at all.
My bed has become a foe for my dreams, and my sight astray, not ready to focus.
Fear is now my ally and witness, watching my life pass by.
Mocking me. Laughing at me.
I have no self-control.
I bend, I beg, I bet this is only a matter of time.