I have things to say, but the words won't come.
A churning effervescence inside of me,
Thoughts begging to be consumed and expressed
Like some kind of delicate herbal tea.
Writing can be a medicinal art,
But my thoughts turn dark and tornadic.
All I can see is darkness.
Fewer than sentences, less than words,
But plenty of pills to keep me from panic.
My world is wrong.
I can't find the right song
To turn my tumultous night to day.
Dark clouds, nightmares, pessimism,
Like making Jello sans refrigeration,
Despite my fight to concoct some better way
Deja vu fights through reminding another day.
Where's the damn light switch?
Where's my blasted brain?
Where's the one album
That can ease this pain?
Seeking the rounds of sounds
To soothe my savage beast,
I roam in a room like a zombie
Far beyond knowing peace.