Lying

To myself, my heart is hidden—I tell lies

From which there is no opposition,

It's just me, and I am left in cognition,

Torturing myself with hypotheticals.

I cannot live one more night in the same

State of mind—I must escape—I must run

Away from myself—cast away the colourless

Skin, the mark of my distention. Is this death?

Is this heaven? Is this hell?

I am falling deeper within the spell.

I dive into distraction like a dying man—

Seeking relief from myself... The years...

The anguish... The process of ageing.

Each breath is poison, a noxious process

Of devious desire—I lament and languish,

The lingering longing that creates

Sullen behaviour and endless ensnarement.

I lie awake—my skin crawls—I'm not safe

Within my head—hapless happenings,

That steal the best of me. I am broken.

I am dubious of belonging. I am defeated.

The levity is laced with lies—my eyes—

See the world as a loving place, but,

Although reality may be freeing,

I chose to live a life of delusion.

I Live a lie.

     DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com