larryF
09-22-2013, 06:58 AM
A Hole Exists Within Me
A hole exists within me
Needing to be filled
Whether that be with good or bad
There is a constant need for it to be filled
When it is empty, I feel distraught
The emptiness drives me to madness
I desperately search for something to fill it
Substances work, in both the routine of
Acquisition and
Ingestion
A passion can fill it, though
It is harder to maintain
Healthiest is love, but it is also
The hardest to find
Even harder to keep
Having a hole can keep one
Up for days on end
And pacing while endlessly searching
For ways to abort those
Feelings of incompleteness
A few bucks and a phone call
And a quick trip downtown to see
The Man
Fills it, but also makes it larger
Each time
Another battle rages on
Still remaining unfinished
Unfilled, the emptiness in my soul
Threatens to swallow me whole
Twice a Day
A group of children play unsupervised
In the street, in no shoes
They see each other, not me
My vehicle divides their bunch
Regrouping immediately
I cannot see an adult, but feel their eyes upon me
Waiting for the man, every moment
Brings additional shame
and sadness
and stress
and degradation
and derision
and guilt
Of which only one thing can cure
And I am awaiting it
- - -
It is always late, perhaps purposefully
My level of alertness rivals
That of a sniper in combat
Focus never fades as eyes
Alternate between the clock
And his front door
Minutes stretch in to hours; a common exaggeration proves ever true
His image holds the power
To cause a total reversal
of mood
and feelings
and emotion
and state of mind
- - -
Anxiety turns to relief
Fear turns to elation
Trepidation turns to excitement
- - -
The kids have no idea of the multitude
Of thoughts that clash within my mind
Routine for the both of us I do this twice a day
A hole exists within me
Needing to be filled
Whether that be with good or bad
There is a constant need for it to be filled
When it is empty, I feel distraught
The emptiness drives me to madness
I desperately search for something to fill it
Substances work, in both the routine of
Acquisition and
Ingestion
A passion can fill it, though
It is harder to maintain
Healthiest is love, but it is also
The hardest to find
Even harder to keep
Having a hole can keep one
Up for days on end
And pacing while endlessly searching
For ways to abort those
Feelings of incompleteness
A few bucks and a phone call
And a quick trip downtown to see
The Man
Fills it, but also makes it larger
Each time
Another battle rages on
Still remaining unfinished
Unfilled, the emptiness in my soul
Threatens to swallow me whole
Twice a Day
A group of children play unsupervised
In the street, in no shoes
They see each other, not me
My vehicle divides their bunch
Regrouping immediately
I cannot see an adult, but feel their eyes upon me
Waiting for the man, every moment
Brings additional shame
and sadness
and stress
and degradation
and derision
and guilt
Of which only one thing can cure
And I am awaiting it
- - -
It is always late, perhaps purposefully
My level of alertness rivals
That of a sniper in combat
Focus never fades as eyes
Alternate between the clock
And his front door
Minutes stretch in to hours; a common exaggeration proves ever true
His image holds the power
To cause a total reversal
of mood
and feelings
and emotion
and state of mind
- - -
Anxiety turns to relief
Fear turns to elation
Trepidation turns to excitement
- - -
The kids have no idea of the multitude
Of thoughts that clash within my mind
Routine for the both of us I do this twice a day