Untitled - November 23, 2003

The darkness creeps in
like a thief through the night.
The silence descends
as a cloudy curtain through the day.

The numbness is deafening,
a silent echo of the emptiness.
Every moment refracts
into another - until all that is felt
is the steady rhythm of nothingness.

An unrelenting tattoo of sufferance,
veiled wishes and voiced dreams
all blur to become the constant
pain of multiple expectations.

Needs are pushed away,
and happiness becomes another by-word;
falling into the abyss of
dreams once felt,
and becoming the "might have beens."