Lift

An unspeakable pain consumes me every now and then.

I close my lips, like a calm hush.

And some nights I embrace it,

like a sore lover.

I can hear my dreams out loud,

and with my eyes closed,

I can see a pretty picture,

I can paint a pretty damning picture of myself,

and where I'd like to be.

Don't speak, because I know, now,

you're scared of me,

scared of all this monster in me,

but there's nothing wrong-

I swear,

I can go on living like this for miles on,

and the only time I'll ever appear restless,

are the moments I should be most at ease.

I can open my mind to you,

open it, and cake it with the dust that seems to make you whole.

You frown at me,

And I'm sorry I bring you down,

I'm sorry I'll never be the same,

and I'm sorry,

trust me, I'm so sorry that I've made it.

I appreciate all the chances I've been given,

all the times I've turned my back on death.

There must be something about me,

that turns the world on,

enough to keep me here,

enough to assume I belong.

In the winter,

That's when I get it,

chilled, and always in my bones.

it grows cold,

I grow weary of shivering, even by the fire.

I keep telling myself,

you've made it, you've made it.

As you feed me hot soup,

hot teas from places you've never been.

I'll wait til the lights are out,

Until I can hear you lightly snore.

and sleeplessly I'll crawl

to the hallow shackles in midnight corners,

and hum tunes that showcase once,

are applauded by the wind,

and are soon forgotten.

In the ends and outs of night,

I will never sleep soundly,

I know what it is to sin,

and I know what it is to repent.

But forgetting sounds so much better.

And at night, your thoughts are forgotten,

lost in mid air, lost in travel.

But they go somewhere,

and that somewhere is where I dwell.

I have laid in the beds,

I have shouted from buildings,

and I have cradled life in my bare hands.

But I have also soared above myself,

I have seen the way rain hit my shell.

I could tell you chilling stories

about becoming me again,

the rough landing,

the screams I heard, but never understood.

So rest now,

I'm here,

I'm so sorry,

not for you,

but for the most selfish me, you'll ever meet.

Because nothing has ever satisfied me as much as dying has.

But nothing will ever satisfy me as much as dying has.