An attempt: Yellow Sigh

With stars in my eyes under the blanket of dead lambs

I lie in bed staring at the brightness, watching,

Precariously falling

Into the madness that’s being exposed

The fallacy of reality

Of which I may or may not know anything about.

Through his eyes perhaps the world is weary, sickly, deathly,

Through not just his eyes, maybe all eyes,

Perhaps the world is weary, sickly, deathly.

But how could I see through such a view?

Incapacitated as if mutilated, by the raw opinion and judgement

Of others so unlike me, so unlike them.

I seek what all men seek,

Love and all romantic things where I may be released

Of this vice grip of vicious clarity in which I drown day in day out

So I may never be let to express the tenderness I bear

Or be let to experience the tenderness the others are offering

For in the presence of their companionship I lay withered.

All of this, all of this, all of it I pour in the heat of desperation

As my beliefs in my abilities bubble to the surface

That has been stagnant and cold for eternities.

Not that the others may care nor ever perceive what I sigh of

Even as I fervently wish for such commitments,

The soul does not speak, it only whispers.

Let this confession of sorts never be revealed of its true nature

For more is to come in this fatal unihibition

Maybe more is to lose then there is to be gained

But wherein lies danger there be the love child

That cries and cries indiscriminately against the noise

Of time slipping away and rhyme making way.

In the fiery burnings of beatific souls, tears fall still

I dare not be as incandescent as the fallen

As  it was their diseased minds and rotting hearts be the cause.

Is it sinful to wish for their salvation?

Those souls whom nought, not even their own minds could comprehend

Those souls whom have been given life just as you and I.

Just as you and I they crawled, slept and wept in their own sweat

Blood rushing through veins thinner then the lines

Drawn by social conformity between reality and fantasy

The whims of the minority excluded

Their wishes and dreams trampled

Theirs, mine, in their dreary truth I stare in awe.

Might it be the lonesome solitude by which I live on

Or the torturous companionship of a lovely nonentity

My sensitivity ignored and ravaged

As her extravagance consumes herself

I watch and shrivel in my own time

So she may never be aware of my viscous enmity.

Forms, themes, validities, opportunities;

Not understood, I ignore and let what flows, flows

Threads of thoughts unbidden by checks of acceptability.

The elegance of the unbridled and their biting honesty I yearn

I endeavour

To achieve again and again and again.

Why must it be thought as bad or evil or wasteful

Obscene, mediocre and hateful

When things that overflows the world is as such

In nature, format, pattern.

In times of pain of which cause i know of but care not to ponder

I look at the moon and be silent.

I fill the blanks in my consciousness with pure anonymity

I fill the blanks in my heart with random oddity

Just so I could live and breathe today, tomorrow, next week,

With bottled joy and laughter when all is bleak.

And with that a spit of ruthlessness from a character

Whom i think i loved but may still love or not at all.

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For what it's worth, I'll try harder more often.