A poem about a feeling that sticks to me like a leech and takes up so much space and for so many days, it's exhausting. I thought it'd help, getting it down into words. It did, at least for today.

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Rumble rumble, this heart's a fumble

My brain's a bungle and I'm all grumbles.

Nothing feels bright, nothing feels right

I toss and turn in the dark of night.

Dream I do and dream I may

It doesn't make this heart sway

Not like how it usually does

Not in the same way.

Talk to my heart's sisters

Or laugh with kindred blood

Those vacant corners still won't flood.

Pour I might and spill I may

An endless river of daydreams gray

The black empty sucks them, devours them

It doesn't seem to fill up anyway.

An empty abyss with an endless end

How much of my delusions do I spend?

To fill this blackhole, this bottomless pit

But I'm afraid I'm all out of my wits.

The only option, to push myself in

Into this desolate chasm to face the demon within

Inside, I fall and fall with hours on end

Outside, I'm a numb mask of pretend.

Calling out to some fantasy sin

Ashamed to seek help from kin

But in the end he's only a spectre 

A result of my imagination's nectar.

A fickle image of my wants and desires

Not enough to satiate my fires

Not enough to fill my dry ocean

Is there a cure for this, or a potion?

I'll toss and turn until morning light

I'll owl my way through this vacant night

Hoping, praying, begging for a reprieve

A better reverie for this silly little heart to weave

And come dawn the riverbeds may see water

And the demon within will have a new tale to author.

By Jane Dove

From: India

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Twitter: anonymo_j