If You Really Want to Know...

I drift from here to there,
From day to day,
Not quite alive,
But rather only existing-just existing.

I cling adoringly, obsessively to the past,
Each memory like floating bits of paper,
Floating, swirling, in and out of my grasp,
Never to be fully attained once more.

They wonder why I am like this,
Why I reside in this catatonic state,
Alive before you, blinking and breathing,
Yet not quite alive.

They ask me, beg of me, to know the truth,
To know what ails me, what troubles me,
I say nothing, nothing at all dearest ones,
But they see through my transparent smile.

Will you release me?
Release me from my doubts, my fears, my anxiety,
From the gnawing pain that cripples and debilitates me,
From this wounded, broken, mutilated thing?

Will you visit me?
When my corpse lies but six feet beneath your toes,
Beneath the depths of humanity, despair, and torture,
In a world of nothingness, and bliss?

I pray for this torment to end,
This torment which seduces my frail body into obedience,
Which demeans my very existence, and will to continue,
That which ensures my fate.

I dare not say these words written aloud,
These words that would shock, and frighten,
Frighten those that care about me,
Yet, here they are:

I cannot, and will not, continue.
Each Journey, has its end,
And perhaps, just perhaps, I have found mine.

Fin.