many a time
i sit and i stare
the reds of my eyelids
as closed
the lights,
what? 100 watts or so
heat i feel
the whirring, the high pitched-ness
the dimmer straining the light
piercing my innerness
innerness... that's all
who knows exactly what
and then theres the quiet
it's not much better
then prone to hear what isn't there
i hear the night
the sounds
the objects
they walk
make floorboards creek
the sound of stairs is unmistakable
quiver as i type
alone
clutching, moving back
the eight year old again
the child
with her night light
it cast shadows
and nightmares
must i go full circle?
the nothingness calls
the past the future
the ever worse present
what is there...
how
it has to stop
i'll go mad
mad mad mad mad mad mad mad mad mad!
i'll die here
alone
in the dark of the afternoon
This poem started off good. But I don't like the "mad mad mad mad mad" part, it seems very forced.
This is so cool, i dont know what to say i just love it. i like the "ill go mad mad mad mad mad" part lol I've been in a dark house alone before and I know what that feels like.