This Day I Am Weak

This harrowing day has consumed me with bleak as I cannot speak I shut the door… I am weak, saturated in my own sorrow, sick in my own destruction of self of love. Like a glove squeezing taunt against my gaunt heart wrenching apart my clinging threads of mind left behind as I try to fill my day with matter… I shatter. As I cannot speak I shut the door, today I want no more than a gently hand to reach me, touch me… just be as though I had some kind of intent, bent up and busted inside my beating chest today my suffering finds no rest. Black clouds hang dark to suffocate my space, a face left faceless suspended and void yet an asteroid of emotion lives within me. I look around this day and I want to see eyes wide open searching free but I am weak as I cannot speak I shut the door. Where do I go, what do I feel? This real we call our waking hours in days, surreal to me my heart’s blaze burns cold… and I am old, grown tired, uninspired of a sequestered soul I lye ailing, dribbling down this lonesome hole. Today I want no more than a gentle hand to reach me, touch me…understand that I hunger day and night in this demented fight to reach new heights in connection of a kind, yet today I find I am weak… as I cannot speak I shut the door.