Keeping me on edges of consciousness, aware of only what is going on within me.
Taking solace, practicing bereavement through all hours of the day, hoping to somehow reach an agreement with myself.
It can’t be done however hard I try.
Silent, parched, finding no where to lay my head when I am tired of this world and all it’s strife.
Consciously arranging thoughts, allowing them to gain control and help write peacefully, continually all the time.
Softened melodies tending to imagination, creating tones to match what I think within.