When I don't want to sing

Comes a time when my voice is dry.
I think on the days when I used to feel good.
With gentle music in my soul, dancing and breathing with the moonlight.
Now fleshy raw emotions leave me groping
for stars and flowers and white holes.
Expressionless, spectral faces follow my decent,
they see right through me.
Where do they come from? These faces from this dizzy spinning world
that decays itself, squeezing agonizing crippled souls
until they are nothing but hollow shells.
I try to run away from the stench,
I run and run and run and run
but I don't move.
I crash in to walls and shatter the bones of my brittle emotions.
I reach out and hope that something will grab me
before I drown in this quagmire of disappointment and bitterness and loss.
I beg for something to know me.
I raise my eyes to the worn landscape filled with the rain of a billion tears
and watch the bloody sun's down fall.
I wonder where it is going?
There is no tomorrow.
Only today, again and again and again -
Still, the notes call me,
a stirring in my heart on the tantalizing breeze that flows in and out in the rhythm of my soul.
But I can not sing.
My throat is still raw from weeping.
I can not even speak, my jaw is clenched and silent.
I know I should stop.
Close my eyes and breath in and stop.
Am I going to die like this,
Lonely and reaching and crying and silly?
Worn and tired I turn my head into the dark descending night.
I leave behind the falling star to follow the tinkling notes of the song
and hope my destination is tranquil and quite and still.

~ Copyright © B dos Santos ~