Lunar Cycle Crucifixion

As lunar cycles peak,

I lay in my bed,

Cold as autumn breezes,

I lay.

Empty echoes of my own bad judgment

Keep me my only unwanted company.

My eyes can’t seem to close,

My heart can’t seem to sleep.

Never dozing, not a moment

Caught

Of unconscious mind.

On my back I lay with arms open wide,

My tattered conscience --a crucifixion--

Makes me vulnerable like

My weakened body still rigid

From the tension from the feeling

Of all those tears never shed.

Am I quivering from rage?

From loneliness? From grief?

Or is it just the cold?

It’s all just the same, I’ve led myself

To believe

(This is why I feel so swallowed whole? ….).

Maybe I’ll soon find the answer;

Guilt always makes you see the light.