Midest The Brain:

Moments of momentary looseness
seem to be more often

then not before
grey mists circulate the mind

often hiding doors 

to which more then not
I once knew laid beyond

and so had no need to visit

let alone open

swirling cries of confusion

haunt the corridors
leaving me beside myself

asking if I am in fact me

let alone Angelus

colours distort twisting

as if a broken mirror

unable to reflect back

the true image of what I am

or even who I am

a sense of lost prevails

and words said

mean not what they are

lines spoken unto me

lost in the eons of nothing

as one struggles to make sense

of all that is will be should be

simply can be

for each day is but a fight

to the finish line

when the head hits the pillow

and I don't have to think 

why do this

for why to keep on fighting

to ache to feel starved

of life's luxerys

I ask this often I beg often

to understand to find a reason

and beyond me beyond this

is a life that is less then ordinary

and though constraints tie me bound

I am but me living in a broken shell

who can and will smile

that will not be devout of strength

faithfulness and belief

and the hope and promise
that there is always tomorrow

Right ?