A Song for Nobody

My shoes sink into the dirt beneath them, gripping tight

the soil and debris of a town of nothing.

There's no special scent or sound,

there's not a wink of atmosphere but instead

a hole of ignorance,

deep like the pit that is black

- it is a worm hole waiting

to pull me in and rip me limb

from limb.

ii

The waking day not worth facing is a brief

glimpse into the despair that

cuts deep into the wound of hatred,

jabbing the knife in and twisting

so that it makes its mark.

The blood that runs out,

cold and metallic,

is ice against the skin and drips on to the

floorboards, turning them up at the ends -

the wet stains coating the edges in dark red

blotches.

iii

My brain hurts as if a creature attached

claws, grabs and bites at it-

pushing and shoving me here and there

without reason.

And I wish I was made of stone, without the

capacity to feel like this,

without the knowledge of what was happening to me.

But no.

I feel every chomp down on my brain matter, the headache

rising from the left side and pulling me down

into a state where sleep isn't even possible.

And if it were,

I still would not be rested.

iv

My throat burns and hurts with the sound

of my own raspy screams unheard,

unsounded against the glass on the screen

where I must waste away every single day

without complaint,

without health,

without sleep.

v

And nobody knows how it feels to be

a nobody that nobody would go to if it were not

for the someone that wanted to hold out one chance

just to chop it off,

like an amputated limb.