Drained

Loneliness is a catheter

siphoning the blood,

draining the life as though

doing so will somehow

make room for better things

to fill my veins.

But all I feel is a steady fade

to grey, a numb dull pain

that resists any other desire

than to assuage the despairing

thought that one is alone.

And so I let fill the thoughts

on other things, distracting scenes

keeping me busy enough to ignore

the ravaging thirst for company.

Simply put, I seem abandoned,

left in a still, stale forest and equally lost.

I keep thinking I hear voices

when I know beyond a doubt

that the voices aren’t voices at all,

just my desire for company

making its regular unanswered calls.

I stare into the white space between my words

and wonder if I can fill them

with what loneliness has siphoned

out of me.

I stand stark still.

I’m here, I’m alive –

my thoughts, my wants, my will.

I aim to kill what little left

of feeling resides in my head.

It’s the only way for me to

go to bed.

I wake, fighting for every moment

just to prove I’m still around

for anyone to give me notice.

And I’m sure they’ve come

to notice.

I’m not ill,

no more than when

they first began

to try siphoning the love out of me –

and they keep going until

every

         single

                   bit of me

is drained.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's like my writer's block... got unclogged.

Cheers!