Eighteen winters and I'm tired --exhausted.

Tired of my mind holding me hostage, 

Tired of the cliquelessness causing me restlessness--

 

I haven't known my bed in days.

I lay in it but it won't hold me, 

My conscious dreams strangle me while I inaudibly scream

HELP ME! LOVE ME!

Who will I be?

 

My fingertips blush, they ache, they itch

My feet swell, skin blanched, my lips--

Tremble --why me? 

For once will you be easy?

 

Last night I dreamt of cigarettes--

I know they'll kill me but the nicotine

Seems so pleasing --what does this mean?

 

Am I mean? Why am I unhappy?

Why can't I do what I'm told and fill this void

With the Light, the Messiah --I believe! I believe?

Why don't I think normally?

 

Eighteen months of winter --I'm so tired

I'm fired --up! Exasperation is where this comes from!

I must sleep --I must I must.

But I won't let me--