The Daft, Demented, and Delirious

Pop the cork and the party starts, you can't mend my broken heart. You'll do for now until it all goes dark. You can't pour happiness but numbness is nice, when heartache and tears no longer suffice. Feelings and good decisions fall by the way side, as inhibitions and boundaries crash in a landslide. Fermented grapes the drink of kings, nobody talks about the trouble that royalty brings. When the liquid is done flowing and the moment has passed, all that was there before  comes rushing in fast. The throbbing, the aching, the nausea and pain, Forever a passenger on this runaway train.

I'm poisoning myself. I am the poison. The venom. I'm toxic. Damaged. Corosive. Allowing myself to be used up. Eaten. Swallowed whole. I'm almost gone. My spirit is so wounded. Soul tired. Worn. My silence is so painful. Hurting and numbness go around and around. Circles and cycles and sleepless nights. I die a little more inside with every unspoken tear. Too late. Too lost. Unsaved. Unsolved. Listless. Lonely. Love isn't real anymore. Then again maybe it never was.