They are what I fumble to grasp
Begging for some purchase
Never truly felt
Forever trapped
Pounding against my skull
I slip into in silent slumber
Black walls engulf my breath

They are what explode with color
The way a book presents its hook
Painting the backs of my lids with
Velvety violets and fluttery furnished fuschias
I am drenched with
Silver oceans that splash softer than
The sparkling tears that dust my cheeks
Like a soft winter coat

They are the looking glass I gaze into
Frantic for some hope
Slick fingers wrap characters and plots
Within a perfect picture frame
My pen is pressed to paper
Worlds turned into words
I charge down its gritty road
With a blistering passion

They are what leave me gasping and feverish
Clutching tight to my chest
Running from the imminent death
That I never can escape
Eyes wide
Heart pounding
As I tumble into dark

They are what I feel so wonderfully
As I kiss her soft and slow
I run my hands through her hair
Fingertips brushing
A curtain caught in a cool breeze
I smile into her eyes
And I drown beneath her stare
When I wake, I ache
For I know she is not mine
She spins and spins like
A scratched record
Forever stuck on repeat

They are the claws that clutch my collar
As I don twilights jaded pendant
The moon lodged in my throat
They exist to press a sharpened blade
Close upon my sternum
They are a reminder of everything
I have destroyed
I crumble, stumble
They are what leave me slicked in sweat
Tasting tasteless tears
Defeated
I cannot forget

They are what hold me back, shadows hiss
Haunted
I am unable to sleep
They linger
Echoing in the dark
I am followed down midnights corridor
They yearn to crack and shatter beneath my weight
A mirror smashed
And all I see are broken shards of bloody dreams
They are the ones that always leave
They always leave their tarnished mark