wastedwalrus
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2005
- Messages
- 2,249
“Anti-Psychotic”
Nothing comes and nothing goes,
I dwell in a place that no one knows.
A place of solitude, a place of regret.
A place that many come to forget.
At times a hand reaches through
But doesn’t remain for me to get to.
At times an eye appears through the crack,
But the viewer never decides to come back.
I lie and all of time sweeps over me,
It passes quickly but in eternity.
Sleep comes swiftly but soon I awake
And I’m left turbid: a wind-swept lake.
With my eyes shut nothing can exist,
Nothing peels through my skin or sticks in my grip.
I’ve come to accept this slow isolation.
I feel the real me quickly slipping, fading.
Nothing comes and nothing goes,
I dwell in a place that no one knows.
A place of solitude, a place of regret.
A place that many come to forget.
At times a hand reaches through
But doesn’t remain for me to get to.
At times an eye appears through the crack,
But the viewer never decides to come back.
I lie and all of time sweeps over me,
It passes quickly but in eternity.
Sleep comes swiftly but soon I awake
And I’m left turbid: a wind-swept lake.
With my eyes shut nothing can exist,
Nothing peels through my skin or sticks in my grip.
I’ve come to accept this slow isolation.
I feel the real me quickly slipping, fading.
