It’s dark.
I can’t seem to find my mark.
I’ve arrived upon the shark.
Where’s the time?
Surely I’ve not run out of mind?
Could you help me find?
I decline,
Steadily, and with certainty,
I decline.

I need a hand.
Someone whose willing to stand.
Yet I press on.
Foolishly, and with no navigation,
No direction,
No thought out procession,
I press on.

I know,
I have to go.
I have to reach that place,
Where bodies are constantly pressed together.
Feelings that scratch the surface,
Light as a feather.

I need something to keep me warm,
From this incoming storm.
I need that form.
The one that makes me forsake the feelings….

Normal,
Nothing formal is what I should have.
But the abnormal is what keeps me satisfied.
It keeps the beast that lives inside me satiated,
Not feeling emaciated,
incapacitated,
Starving for flesh.
Is this a test?
If so I believe you’ve found my weakness.
You I believe have bested me.

Cheers for finding my fears,
and bringing them up for me to be lost,
to be unclear.

-N