Hands unrestrained,
Still beyond control.

Not overzealous I.
But a mere servant.

They come like quiet hues
And canvas a deathly fog
In me.

Give in to the onslaught I must.
Must I?

For the whispers twist
And knot up inside.
From inside ears
I hear them gnaw.

Fingers find no meaning.
But the pulsing of my heart
Salivates with the feeling.

I am intoxicated.

Another day when mere survival
Comes in the way of dreams, it is.
Is it?

Not today.

Today a slave I am.
The kind I love to be.
Wolfing down colours
That splatter against
My starving mind.

My eyes bleed greed
My soul cries helpless.
And fingers to slav-ery give in.

Choice is not an option.
Either open I must.
Or die.

Two strikes
From dying keep me.
Do they?

Or am I already dead?

Empty witnesses nod in disagreement.
Still breathing I must be. Still Alive I am.

Am I?

Tagged , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: