There is strange circus running in my head.

There is strange circus running in my head.
I can see the acts, one after the other,
repeated in an endless loop of madness.
Days go by and sometimes appear together,
before night comes to soothe me in her arms.
I am in love with her charms.
I wait to hear her croon,
that belated song of melancholy
by the light of the raging moon.
I wish I had more time to stop by her address.
Exchange words and silence the unsaid
and become alive when all else was dead.
But an air of the most unbearable stillness
is waiting suspended over my bed.
I am lost to the world of words,
I am lost to my family and my friends.
I have squandered a lot in my life.
I have screamed and cried and bled.
The colour of my blood is still a crimson red.
And I wonder if anybody’s ever heard me…
or if anybody’s ever felt the need for it.
Or was I simply abandoned for the dead?

There is a strange circus running in my head.

11:07 PM
26th July, 09