Feral Will

Loneliness is like a cancer that you can’t get chemo for
You lie in the medical bed of your heart, surrounded by the bustle and noise of everything around

Everything is so lively, bright and full of damn energy, from the sound of the loudest big rig down the street

To the smallest creak of a branch outside your window

and yet you still waste away

Because all that noise doesn’t matter
The sound of laughter or the cry of bird songs
or the sounds of the city or the patter of rain on grass

Even the weeping of your own mother

Nothing matters
Maybe it never did

You lie there with tubes in you that stretch your skin, and feed your flesh, and drain your filth
And you just lie there, in a malaise, hurting

Just fucking hurting

That’s the worst part of loneliness

That dull throb in your heart, that seems to hurt worse then a bullet to the skull, or the Headmen’s axe

It’s an ache that cuts you down, like even God is against you

And you can’t fight it, either
Nor can you embrace it
You can just be awashed in it, drowned in a wave null

It’s a terminal cancer, and you can’t get chemo for it

You can fight the good fight as long as you can, with the smile of friends, and the love of a good woman

But open your damn eyes, and get past your own naivety

Loneliness is just part of the joke filled game of life
And death always goes to the winner