Haywire

Images, images deep in my mind.
Killing me, killing me without another a drop of blood.
Am I slowly losing this war?
No, the battle, the war is lost.
Has been since I entered this battleground.

Emptiness lingers, in a space, void that cannot be filled-
God filled the other, or he continues to.
I cannot think like this.
This torture some feeling deep inside my mind?
No, not there, for it was there I would be visited by thoughts most unkind
In my unconsciousness.

Where I long for something I can never have.
Because that is the fate bestowed upon me.
Is this fair? Fair to even begin to think like this?
I think not, but it is not meant to be,

Notice,
Notice-
Stop!
Silence your fingers,
Another sentence more and thy might hath revealed thine
Most ashamed thoughts.

Thoughts that cause us chaos.
Yes, sweet chaos builds up steadily.

Break into pieces,
I feel I will.
Never think.

I never stop.

Thinking of you.
Where you are.

Silence! Treacherous fingers!
By the damned you betray me so!

Cut.

Other

On the other side,
I will write.
On the other side,
You will see,
All that there is to me.

Here I am silent,
Here I am kind.
Here you are blind.

We are all, valentines
Kept in the hearts of all who care about us.
Friends, companions.
Where is there to turn next?

Facial expressions that lack the true nature.
For secretive beings are we.
Am I.

Closed.

Lucid

I must know if I stand here idly
Will thou ever see me?
I am fading more with each thought,
I know I cannot.

Yet, still I do.

Awakened in my dreams, turned nightmares.
I do miss thee.

Chosen

There is a thought in the midst
Tucked away beyond the chaos, deep in the abyss.
A decision must be met, with unwavering confidence.

It must be met.

A smile as sweet, seen only once or so.
Eyes like that of the seas, mesmerizing.
A choice to be made.

Which one? Dost thou love?
Art thou lost amid thy own mind's
Madness?

Discontentment?

Or merely the third is what captures thy deepest void.
Within the folds of of fabric surrounding the walls of thy heart,
Is the voice of the one thy has chosen, yet-

Tis not meant to be.
For thy ist but a common flower amongst the brightly colored orchids.
Not in appearance, but in appeal.

The voice will never hear thy.

So, tis best thou returns to I.
I will never forsake thee.

Thou and Me,
Tis all I shalt ever need.