A quick mess

My mind is bruised, I think

Haunted and decrepit and creaking, dark things flitter about in the dusty corners, memories roaming with a life of their own. It’s not my mind, as much as a symposium for all my hopes and fears.

Sometimes I have to look in the mirror, to make sure this head is mine, this body is not rented, and this life has been bought and paid for. I’ll pinch myself to test wakefulness, and that I’m not just someone else’s daydream.

My heart is broken, I think

Ravaged as its been by time and tides, scratched and torn by so many wicked barbs, clawed and pummeled and spat upon. Or maybe that’s just self pity trying on all her pretty little dresses.

Color me in all the shades of martyrdom; bring me a great chorus of fallen angels. We’ll stomp and grumble and yell curses and demands at the ever widening sky. On the stony ground of indecisiveness and strife we‘ll huddle and lament the lack of opportunity.

My soul has lost its luster

It’s been soaked in tepid waters, dragged through the mud of betrayal, stained with anger and lies and all the evil things I’ve poured into it. It’s hard to see the light with the chains of doubt wrapped so tightly about your head.

Gather ‘round and look at the odd man with the odd little thoughts, cloudy mind filled with so much nothingness and drab; stunted steps covering little ground on a long trip to nowhere. Brittle bitter thoughts just contrivances that echo greater meaning but are no more than an angry whisper in the dark.