Walking the line,
I feel like a ghost
without my loved one
beside me.
I push you away,
beg you to come back,
but you know that
I am a lost cause.
Nothing is happening,
and everything is happening.
The line on which I walk
stretches between
the sea
and the desert,
the chaos
and the stillness,
the violence
and the emptiness,
all the things I am.
The fog in my head
makes me want to run,
escape from my cell,
go out into the wild,
although I know it will only
bring trouble.
So, I try to escape in
a different way,
make myself implode,
let wolves eat me
until there’s nothing left.
Can I go on
singing this song of
hot and cold,
night and day,
wet and dry?
Is there any way to stop
the demons that are my enemies?
Or, will I always live
without the release that I crave?