Untitled
The sadistic coup of this fragile monarchy
has left me broken beyond means of repair.
My own allies have strayed far beyond the enemy lines;
I am caught in a brutal re-creation of trench war-fare.
My ammunition is my own demise
and this impending doom lingers within these restless eyes.
When I lie between my cotton sheets
and fail to meet the mistress sleep
I am tormented by her vindictive counterpart:
angst and sleepless hours marching dutifully one right after the other.
The aspirations of my childhood laughter
have fallen silent in contrast to my short comings.
Racked with guilt shrouded in indifference,
I lie silent against a cool winter night.