Track #3.- present tense.

It's not that I have changed,
that the swirl of a color stopped
from being rock solid to shining
liquid, it's the same perspective
with a different lense - same
tongue, different sweetness.

I'm the same old wound, but
healing, breaking, healing,
turns the once tender skin
calloused, I can't help it,
and I can't say I hate it.

There is no cure to being human,
and the dreams, nightmares and
reality I carry will always drag behind
me, pulling at the seams of every
moment I get a grasp on my sanity.

It won't ever be over, start,
end, repeat, stuck on a memory
playing like lighting in my brain,
try to clear my head but it's a poison,
a state I haven't quite mastered.

It's not simple, how much of these
thoughts are truly mine? I get drunk
on doubts instead of wine, hungry to
the bone, wondering what is that makes
me sick, what is that makes me, be me.

It's like pulling teeth out, I can't
stop toying with the pain in my flesh,
'try to be better, to get better', but I've
never known anything else - never known
anything more reassuring than death.

Picking until all is red, dissociate
from the now to see inside, even if
I count I get lost in time, hours passed
and I blink back against the numb feeling
settling down, 'today, at least you tried'.