music

The drums beat
within my head,
the guitars tug
at my heart.
I numb myself
in a silken white
cloth of smoke
and wait for sleep.
For happy sleep,
for torturous dreams
of Neverland
and tombstones.

Would only self-pity
break me now
so that I may not
be anymore.

Words, words,
stupid words,
stupid, stupid words
begging for sympathy.
"Is someone else
supposed to be there
besides the spectre
of broken promises?"
the operator asks.

The grey shroud
of desolation
will never be swept away
by me.

Happy, happy sleep
sing to me tonight,
sing with your screams
and your screeches,
sing so that I may not
hear anymore.

Sing so I may
fly away
and fall,
sing so I may fall
with music in my ears,
with a numbness that
would choose me as son,
and then I can not
be anymore.