not just loneliness weighing gravid, doleful,
becoming this furtiveness rooted, still
seeming in the light to be seen, yet unseen
amidst the hundred thousand voices seething, roiling, teeming
the faces, the gestures, all worn-down by rehearsal
words spoken by rote, by habit, stripped of meaning

oh blessed sleep, at once elusive yet inescapable
in this heavy velvet cloak of darkness,
my mind reels and lurches and whirls without direction
picking apart the seams that hold my soul together
finding that there is no there there, just vapidity
sterility, confusion, and incomprehensible sorrow

is it just nameless fear preying? Parasitizing?
Like an occult tick engorged, ballooning with blood
leaving me paralyzed and without will?
in the morning as the sun encroaches
I dread the implacable stillness holding me fast
worse than iron shackles, worse than lead weights
while my roused soul writhes powerless
gnawing helplessly, uselessly upon the growing randomness
nonsensical thoughts, stale and tired schemes, evaporating dreams

paralyzed while time burns away like grass withering
under the baleful glare of the desert sun
still my soul twists and struggles in violent passion
undirected, blind fury, without hope of succor
though my limbs hang useless, my lips and tongue stay parched
and my voices dies in my throat, ere anything of meaning is uttered

each day like another set of bars, the guards taking me deeper
into the bleak, lightless recesses of the prison of my mind
with madness the only possible escape remaining