Ceiling

What lesson can be learned
What dream can be found
What pain can be stopped
What joy can be lived

Days gone playing in rewind
Staring at the white dusty fan
On the ceiling
Feeling blocked like the stars
Staring at the white dusty fan
On the ceiling

Not connected to the world
Traveling slower than time
While the black cloud of fear
Creeps up my neck’s back
Being absorbed by
Freshly lotioned skin

Indigo terror, everything darker
The sun is so cold, but the nights
Are colder, lonelier, more quiet
Leaves only me to hear myself
Future demons rising, yanking,
Tearing parts of me away, leaving
Me empty, emptier than usual

Silence, be still my heart
Listen to the bottle of aspirin
Dance with it, my last love

We lay on quilted sheets
Staring up at the white
Dusty fan as the world
Slowly turns to black

Questions linger as parental
Chess pieces move into the room
Wooden and marble tears
Etch the faces as they watch
Their knight lost in the game

(I just found this poem I wrote it in 2007)