I sat at a familiar round table
With my head in my hands. A fable
Repeated in my head as other patrons
Said hello to no reply. Gas stations,
Work, politics; please say nothing at all.
I’m running through life chasing my fall.
Am I just living in a dream?
The thoughts of others bury me underground
But I still hear them. Abandon all hope
Or learn differently? I want to hear no sound
For a little while. It’s really hard to cope.
Why did I come here?
Walking into the depths of fear.
Everywhere I run the fear appears
And I run away. The turning gears
Stretching me so thin. Years
Spent stuck in clockwork. My tears. . .
A dried up well in the desert.
I came here after the mirages
All faded away. Visages
Drift and in their eyes is hurt.
Too real and too tainted; dehydration
Of our hearts raised in dream desiccation.
I slam my hands down and get away.
Every second I spend lost
Gets erased from existence.
A reality more like a maelstrom
Slamming me forward through time.
Nowhere to go but down below
Onto the ocean floor. I breathe.
The pain tells me I’m alive.
Lungs collapsing, blood flowing;
I’m trying to enter the ring
For another fight. I saw no way
Else to defend what I truly love.
Every statue made out of clay
Couldn’t compare to her skin
Against my own. Did I fall for sin?
What else could I do? I’m too weak
To stand alone in this world. So I seek
the comfort in others. Of sin though, I reek.
Vasha'Lakar 