The Space that Fills the Time

I see myself through frosted glass
A sensation not mirrored by the truth of the image
I see myself something I am not
Skilled beyond measure, I marvel when I fail
Whose image have I taped to the twisted window that I fool myself so well?
When the turning goes quick enough, when murky water clears, I shall throw myself free

I wear the tension in my neck, a yolk for the oxen to struggle through the field
I have tilled here
And I have failed as well

My disconnected thoughts have joined forces
They smother me at night with a hypoallergenic pillow
The simple thing that chains them here
The guilt or
The obligation
Or any of many, minute causes

I may not have ever told you
But it didn’t mean you could never ask

I live without meaning
No, beyond this obsession with personal purpose
I live without meaning

Confession of depression
A sin I cannot help

My mind seeks to stretch my body to a point it will not go
A wave pinned upon the sand
I could, I think
I could cut my head open to let it go
I seek blood but without the pain I must pay to release it
I could, I think
I could break through my ribs to squeeze my heart in my hand
To make it stop
To feel the tissue crushed
The muscle squish between my fingers like mud and clay

My will is weak
Does it take more strength to fix me than to keep me here?
Because here I am
Still
And there I’ll stay
Still
But I am broken
Still

I wish there was anger in me
That I could swell
That rage could dwell in me
But that madness is as slight as the breeze
It is the dying sun of a lost galaxy

There is desertion here
In this lost galaxy
Civilizations have fled
In their fast little ships
A thousand points of light
Fireflies
Sparks flickering from a fuse

The sun is dead

My ribs and lungs are encased in iron
To give my wheezing breath
My coal-dust cough
I am built for the emptiness of space
The mirror reflection of all that isn’t there
Whose image have I taped to the twisted window that I fool myself so well?