The Demons We Hide

May one day I be as free as I hope to be.

May one day I realize how desperate that sounds.

May one day I feel half as drowned as I currently lay,
above my troubles,
not stronger than but above.

Tugging and scraping at my thoughts,
pushing and yelling.

Assuming their overlapping positions throughout my mind, spreading every which way without a care,
making my once calm, over calm home,
a place no more my own.

I belong.

Now to what I call the place my demons rest.

Sleeping and walking throughout my consciousness layering beyond and beyond within

Deep within.

My precious skull, precious little interrupted skull

Beg me for your forgiveness now you rotten cold lovely demons.

Wherever my untold happiness may lie,
they know and surround me closely hoping for revival, eternal grace and life.

May I never leave they plea whenever I go near what could be great.

Revealed in my vision I see things,
heavy overbearing things I must keep to my self,
shuffled and tucked away in my array of scattered falling thoughts and memories.

Why I can’t decide which is worse.

Memories and thoughts,
my hidden capturers

Scared yet bold leading me to their secure seemingly endless road to assurance

I am free.

With them I am free to be the drowned mess I want to be. Forever with them I feel entitled to disgraceful thoughts.

Not unfamiliar they are but eerie,
passing through streets late entitled,
hopeless I will wait.

I long to wait.

What I wait for is unknown.

But I do eternally, with no helping positivity or guidance, instead helpers of beyond coming from within telling stories of the past singing memories of my shame and mistakes

Swaying through the breeze of my longing friends

Doomed from birth, disgraced by age.

Unknown I am to myself,

Belonging to no home besides my own with these home grown demons yelling one after another to me.

About me, With me.
Against me, With me.

I lie in a current state of drowning in a bottomless well walls tight and high.

Tight and high they stack around me, as I watch without a choice I watch,
amazed at how tangled and torn I have become with these demons.

I question my place in the world with them.

To the entire universe we mean nothing but to each other we’re all we have.

I’m all they have.

Without me their place is as tragic as mine,
place less in the closets of millions of people of all ages and abilities.

I can’t describe my mind.

My mind is a never ending puzzle one must get tired of trying to figure out, 
as I am the only one who can do such a thing.

But I lay screwed and tangled unable to figure out what I am even lost in, less known who I am.
Pathetically searching for assurance I am crazy.

I am no longer a nothing.

You see.

I am a pile of bones and blood, skin and tissue.

Within one would cringe at my thoughts,

I cringe at my thoughts.

Yet they continue.