PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The vicelike grip I once

enacted on my fragile future

has been pried loose by

the dirty hands of need

sullied by the dregs of time.

The life I am leading

does not feel real;

nay, it is as insubstantial

as a brick comprised of whispers

and eyelashes that fall

from their perch upon knowledge

in a sky hungry for retribution

for the sins I've committed.

I iknow I need chemical help

burning away another two hour respite

friom delving into the mechanics

of being decidedly average.

They say my lack of faith

in the truth of what constitutes

my surroundings is delusional

but they'd feel the same if

they experienced the dissonance

between sight and sleep.

So I'll believe I'll sleep forever

and make my mistake again

just to see if justice

was really served.