Tears that haven't fallen for the heart
that is broken. Where are they? Faith has
disappointed me again, and karma won't
leave me alone. Two decades, the body's
been lonely. Two decades the heart's been
aching. Where's the hand to silent the
screaming? Where's the peace that
suppresses the drinking? A misleading
promise a day makes.
Empty and redundant. I'm drinking to stay
sane to keep my voice at a level of dull
pain. All I can do is watch the disease eat
at me. I can feel it tearing at my heart
with it's razor-blade fingers. I want to
scream to drown the pain, but its my
habitual decorum that's maintaining that
level, that silent ache of dull pain. The
irritating consistency of dull pain. Some
thing I live with. Something I'll die with.
-- B.L - Laine
just bored.. until later...