Peristalsis of Darkness

Recumbent, crippled: a conscious corpse Life calling for me to follow Mentality, it warps Why does my skull feel hollow? As I wait for the shadows to fall down, to swallow Emotions exhaust; they yawn, they sleep I wonder why I'm awake Why aren't I comatose counting sheep? Or swimming in some chocolate lake? What must I do- for God sake? The black weighs heavy; unyielding, dense Two jigsaw pieces left fitting Hair strands react to such alien sixth sense Perpendicular; lascivious in their sitting Buried skin is forsaken; solitary, unwitting Ladders of monotony, the itch to climb But I'm yet to grapple a rung Whispers of breathing chant and chime Whistling from each glass lung Will my reality sing unsung? The dark devours me; surreptitious, slow My body of waning evanescence When will this serotonin begin to flow? My prison of subtle quiescence Paralysed by every cell of my essence Like Mephistopheles, only I serve a devil within Post mortem, my thoughts painstakingly dissected Wounds of the past are tough like pigskin Restrained to relive still affected I wonder if they could be ejected As the darkness lifts no weight has shifted The day pours into the night It's not as though I am God gifted As I am still one with such bastard blight How am I supposed to stand up and fight...? Recumbent, can't move: a conscious corpse Life now screaming for me to follow Mentality; it warps Why does my skull still feel hollow? As I will for the shadows to fall down, to swallow