Solitary
10/1/12
executing doubt like a quiet storm at hand
it makes sense that i would be alone again
never opening my doors but craving life
struggling just to look alive
what kind of lamb will i be—
the black one of the bunch—or the Ordinary?
i can’t breathe within the crowd
and alone i only scream aloud
i can’t make you see the light
without the doubt—without the spite
pushing every companion away
nothing goes, but nothing stays
enter in, you rising storm
before the aftershock is born
brew away the emptiness
and wash away the filthiness
solitary, Ordinary; withstanding fury
praise the judge and bomb the jury
the multitudinous drops of cool water
bring back the doubt adding to the slaughter
it has risen above my head
taking away every gasp of air
leaving me faltering out in the open
as you stare vividly at completely nothing
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