Walking the line,

I feel like a ghost

without my loved one

beside me.

I push you away,

beg you to come back,

but you know that

I am a lost cause.

Nothing is happening,

and everything is happening.

The line on which I walk

stretches between 

the sea

and the desert,

the chaos

and the stillness,

the violence

and the emptiness,

all the things I am.

The fog in my head

makes me want to run,

escape from my cell,

go out into the wild,

although I know it will only

bring trouble.

So, I try to escape in

a different way,

make myself implode,

let wolves eat me

until there’s nothing left.

Can I go on 

singing this song of 

      hot and cold,

night and day,

wet and dry?

Is there any way to stop

the demons that are my enemies?

Or, will I always live 

without the release that I crave?