The Forgotten

The worst part about all of it,
Is that you can't bring yourself
To do anything. No matter
How pressing. No matter
How urgent. No matter
How important. It just
Doesn't matter. Nothing does.

It doesn't let up. It's
All-encompassing. It's
Suffocating. And the only thing
That could make it go away,
The only thing that could end it,
The only possible answer,
Is completely unknown.
It's like staring at an
Open wound, knowing
What to do, but forgetting
All the words and
All the meanings and
All the processes to fix it,
To patch it up, to
Restore it. And even
These words have been lost.
Even these words ring to deaf ears.

I am staring at an open wound.
I need to fix it. But wait -
What is a wound? What is
The word that stands for. . .
Is it heal? I don't know.
I just don't know anymore.

The Game

The cards we are dealt
Determine the hands
We construct. They determine
Our chances of survival,
Of success, of admittance
To the winner's circle.
My choices are limited.
Always limited. I pair
The spades with
The diamonds and
My singular heart
Hopes
For the best.
My fingers grasp
The remaining chips I have
Been allotted. My hands,
They tremble
As I choose my
Next move. But I
Am trapped, trapped
Within the confines of
My cards; trapped
By the spades that
Dig my grave; trapped
By broken hearts; trapped
By shattered glass and
Sparkling diamonds. Diamonds
That I cannot keep - they
Shine on a world I
Cannot have. My hand
Is already made.
The cards are already
Played.

Limbo

Complacency. I am full,

Full to the brim.

So full, but never 

Overflowing. And I

Do not care.

I teeter on the edge

Of nowhere,

Floating back and forth

Between unknowns. 

My mind

Drifts

And is brought back.

Drifts

And returns.

I have tried to crawl,

To crawl under;

Find a damp,

Dark,

Forgotten place, and

Remain forever.

But even this, this

Idea is an 

Expenditure

Of too much

Energy. It is simpler

To stay,

Stay here.

Complacent.

Nowhere.

Drifting.

And returning.

Forever.