Words wont fit the feeling.

There are no words to describe this life.

How does one describe something that is not there?

How does one live, when already dead?

Dark the shadows are, swirling through his mind.
Overtaking, consuming every thought.
Drowning and choking, gasping for air.
Struggling through the murky glimpses
flashing through his mind.
A child's bicycle overturned on a cracked sidewalk.
Shadowed corners of a dimly lit room.
Purple twilight filled with fireflies.
Scraped and bruised skin, broken bones.
Voices screaming, echoing in the mind.
That mans hands, boards, chains and electric cords.
A stolen kiss in the back of a chevelle.
Flashes of long past times.
Still clear enough to slice through his heart.
Scar tissue forms on the surface,
but the wounds never heal.

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In darkness she sleeps, so silent and alone.
I watch each rise and fall of her chest,
Feel each beat of her gentle heart.
Yet though she sleeps,tears of pain flow from her eyes.
A withered soul,
Who mourns for days of sunshine and smiles.
She is my dark beauty, my sleeping sorrow.
Her pain is a vice around my dying heart,
That weeps for her.

Im not that strong ,
at times I feel as if im a candle flame
in the swiftly growing wind of a storm,
fighting against all odds to stay lit,
that is not strength.
We all make choices,
we all have the choices to make,
and we make them,
one is never forced to love ,
I was never forced to live,
you were never forced to care.
We all makes choices to do the things we do in this life,
it just seems that at times,
somehow along the way,
things get bent and warped in shape,
never quite seem to go in the directions we intended them too.
And so we go on living,
trying to make sense of it all,
wade thru the dark waters, fight against the winds ,
and fight to get a grasp on something that is steady and calm.
But sometimes when we think that we have found that steady thing to grasp,
it too snaps like a rotted branch of a tree,
and we are once again falling,
and searching for something else to grab hold of.