No Meaning

Wolves howl danger in my hear
Ringing clear, drawing near
For the pain and for the fear

I cannot stop.

To remain is to kindle fire
Burning flame, rise ever higher
Call me wretched, name me liar

I cannot stop.

Though panic strikes me fair
And I feign a lack of care
There is suddenly no air

I cannot stop.

Left to ponder and to pine
After dream, never mine
Cursing the slow pass of time

I cannot stop.

Now I roil and I ache
With a want of no good slake
Pray for me, for pity’s sake

I cannot stop.

Heart beating ever faster
In the wake of such disaster
Impulsive always of no master

I cannot stop.

Through my suffering and my keening
There leaves no other answer seeming
Without you there is no meaning

I cannot stop.

What’s inside

There is no world but what I show you.
You have no knowledge but what I teach you.
Should you stray from me, you will be lost;
what you learn will make you
destroy yourself.

In your darkness you will search for me.
You believe me a light, although I blind you and cause you pain.
Whether the darkness hurts more, you cannot tell.
Perhaps they are one and the same?

One can only try to find their way
but what you look for sinks you further
into a time you have come to loathe.
And you continue to seek a sanctuary
which you know there is,
but not for you.

And when it seems to be day, with the promise of full moon on the horizon, you wonder whether your blackness is not the whole cause of night.
Is it the fault of outside too? As the tree that bears fruit begins to slow…

Still you fight for an emancipation that you are not certain exists.
All you do is all you can, but what you can proves not enough, because you strayed.
Though inevitable, you do not stop to consider.
It is not in your nature.
You won’t confess.

You strayed, and so on the inside is where you’ll stay.

Lost

Door of promise, of freedom
from the black that envelops the room.
Before me, tempting tempest
glows white as yonder moon.

The way is shut to me;
no reprieve, no escape.
Yearning for light of mind and soul,
though it may yet be too late.

No time for liberal liberties
or open air for opened lungs.
No chance to clamber from the cave;
no ladder, no rungs.

Door locked, sound mute.
Beseeching goes unheard.
Attempt to share your silence
and you will be named absurd.

Blinding dark, deafening quiet.
I wonder “where am I?”
“Where am I going?”
Searching for a place to lie.

I go to a shore of peace and war
where I have nothing to keep.
Not a worry or a care.
Close my eyes to sleep.