Beckoning, calling, a world reaching to touch across a void of dull, hazy consciousness;
Awake but feeling like a boredom dream, seeing, but viewing everything through sleep haze.

Sighing, lamenting, despairing that which did not come.
Soul yearns for welcome emotion, concern, love expressed in written word, ink on paper substitute for smiles and laughs and uncertain glances.

Lacking that which soul wants, heart stirs, implodes
Rather than lashing out, thought and emotion lash in;
Tiny seeds of rage and panic strive to shriek, scream for all to hear and take note - silenced by despair

All the ire straining and restrained muted, dying down to a dull throb as it recedes,
Turning inward along a macabre path;
The demon exclaims, "If I can't get it, then I don't want it!"

Bitter lies, self-corruption of the soul
Eating away at my tender core,
Leaving more and more a hollowing shell,
Inflicting more hurt to answer hurt and despair.

Logic confounded yelps with delirious dismay
Why do I lie to myself, why do I try
To push away, shove away, ban from my heart
That which I want, that which I need.

The demon quips, "Misery loves company,"
"So go home, and take with you your toys,"
"This one you lose, abandon the game,"
"To avoid hurt, care no more, extinguish soul's flame."