in some trouble.

the work place, the modern day straitjacket, dare we breath out? The killer of individualism and brave ideas. Each night grows longer for fear what another day may do or take from my character. I once was a whole person with a shadow, now I am but the shadow. With every night the fight to rest and turn off grows, till all I do is toss and turn till the bed feels not unlike the bare wood of a coffin. while others dream of adventure, I dream of sleeping at ease, if only those dreams would come true. And not even her smile could ease this weight of non existed years i feel.

could be..

Insomnia, insomniac, night times never the best of craic. Ringing ears and growing fears, the room gets warm, the dark gets light, the head gets melted while the heart beats a rhythm of fright. It's little things, the could be's and could not, the people that you used to know and the people you don't.

Cuban fury

i'll hold your hand and your hair back, And we can pretend we're having fun, so we don't have to go somewhere new, and this is the gift i couldn't give to you. A guilty pleasure, too precious, tieing notts in my belly as i know i am going to lose.

for you need her more then you love her.

Guilty pleasures burn a hole in the soul, Is ok now to shoot my arrow? Dancing the thin line between pleasure and pain. Clip the wings to never fly again. But you know, I could never dance with out you. And time has to have its own way Or so the story goes as i drink too much, And the room starts to spin Could I really of had to much, Or am I just trying to hard to numb the thoughts, Once again.

another lifetime.

The positive thought destroyed by the negative need, the need to need someone who needs me, none of the previous. Close my eyes and perhaps the clouds will pass through me. Dark as burning sugar, a little more then less. And everybody bleeds, but it's anyones guess.

a history of loneliness

Sometimes even dreamers have to wake up, but when you can't sleep it's hard to get up. So another night and it's anyone's guess, less sleep equals more stress and even the best memories seem so far away and tainted with regret. But such is life it's my bed and i made it.

never too much.

The shadows of doom, while your uniform hangs and taunts you, "it should be you, hanging here" it says. I don't know how to reply as I question will i sleep tonight, and can I make it through tomorrow. Every smile hides the dark and were evil lurks. And everyday it gets harder to carry the burden of hurt. But maybe someone will be kind enough to help me to pick up the fragments of a broken heart, but maybe karma thinks other wise.