Lament of the Lost

Tar-darkened, shriveled-up lungs resound with the acoustics of a song left unsung;
vocal melodies shaped carefully from stars, voices humming harmoniously from afar.
They encircle one’s eardrums sweetly;
a guitar’s mournful strings slowly begin to sing my dopamine to sleep.
The beauty in its simplicity is not something the chemicals within my brain can keep,
like the glass protruding from the soles of my feet that continue to bleed.

And so he beckons me, “Dear lady of sorrows, you beautiful traveler,
where are you going? To a land of vast sunshine or gloom-induced snowing?”
“On,” is all that parts from my chapped lips, void of a smile, lost in a kiss.
But not created from sheer bliss;
an embrace from a memory, formed from an eternal apocalypse.

My legs push onward,
Forward, slower; yet stronger -
My alienated mind chanting, “Don’t discontinue, not yet. Just a little longer.”
Pushing out one breath, two;
Thinking about all the vast dark waters I have waded through.
Legs now pushing harder, faster;
stiff as they ache against walls of plaster
This pain, it shackles me;
I am its immobile master.