Daytime with it's elusive details, tends to 
lend an air of security, a sense of being 
busy gives me the mistaken idea that 
perhaps I might be of some use to myself, 
doing chores, I am convinced it is a noble 
cause and lending creativity to my motions
lets me delude myself into thinking that 
they are unique unto me, oh what a soul 
this is, lost in the ramblings my body tries 
to speak, but the day draws to a closing, 
nighttime ritual begins, silence sinks into 
the walls, longing becomes a part of me 
as I breathe in the air of the empty room, 
my mind becomes obsessed with the 
sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, 
this feeling of physical pain that seeps 
into my bloodstream infecting my thought 
with negativity, this feeling I feed with my 
thoughts, my fears, my pitiful inadequacies, 
will it end, will the pain cease to be in any 
precious moment before death, or will 
when I die be self contained in this pain 
I created and wallowed in all these long, 
lonely, empty years?

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