Going through a rough patch.

Opening my heart is ever futile

As I do, I’m back on square one
Stranded in the obscure sea of mired clarity
Time skipping past till bliss wanders free

I still exist and dream and persist in stasis
This damned stillness still gives me grief
And a roaring will to shatter my self-made shell
But, as ever, it is thickened once more

I can’t breathe for this poison in my blood

With little to protect me, little to see me through the day
I meet the reaper night after night, offer my sweet sighs
I know I’m still alive, but half of me would rather live
Than face the hanging indolence that idly sways me

This is not me. This is not me.

Truth is, I wait for thee, beautiful storm
I wait for your tempting echo within