I am the Twilight

Examining options and needs,
Angry pensively and worry,
Thinking about an article of emotion not of my own hand or mind,
Unfeeling, unthinking I wish to drown in the curse of a bottomless pit of disdain,
My love sacrificed to feel the suffering
The rejection, the dark,
Chaos, let chaos reign, inside

Sitting here cutting in metaphor and actuality, the salt rain pouring burning as my tears,
Others using, triggering, wiping and destroy the touch,
This world for me is unreal
Alone I sit with candle lit
In this downfield world

A microcosmic Aneurysm incinerating the core of persona,
The unknown, unwelcome guest thinking for me,
Ensorcelled, encapsulated by a chaotic mind, is it my own?,
Does the blood on my hands belong to me or another?,

The insidious feeling,
Unable to climb unto a higher being
Hating this skin I live within,
Crucified as a millennial Cyanide Christ-like figure,
Are these voices echoes of what I’ve said in the past,
Are they internal, next to me, or from afar?
The curse, the loss of majestic singularity that I never had,
But to whom?.

Ian V. Seymour ©2012

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