Black Out Bed Fellow

I am warm, and my head is on fire,
and I can’t stop shaking, I fumble
around and whisper to myself, to
every person I am, who I was, who
I will become, like driving in the
rain, each person I pass different,
yet all the same, living in muck
and loving the brilliance of life,
even in this terrible space, so cold
and wanton, I acquiesce to each of
myselves, kowtow to their terror,
waking madness in masquerade,
shivering inside, bleeding outside,
stuck pigs never had it so good,
but the closet feels safe of all,
dark and fenced in, hemmed up
and basking in the resplendency
of despondency, in this cell, like a
prisoner in a book, not even the
birds sweet call can be heard, but
I will trade that for false safety and
no fear, no wear and tear on this
fragile eggshell mind, never a sad
sack or jovial buffoon to ruin my
morning or evening, lying awake
at night, the world is heaviest of all

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~ by Shawn M. Young on November 2, 2017.

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