If You Close Your Eyes... Poem by arboreslorien sapientia

I am what you wished you were, and hoped you would not be. I die every hour, every minute, every second. What is humanity but misshapen shapes in the dark?
Do you want to come and get me? Do you want to come and get me? Live in my hell for a day, and tell me about my head.
When I'm up, I'm up, and when I'm down, I'm down - there is no 'half-way'.
I walk on clouds to fall from mountains; my bones snapping like sticks as I crash below.
A ship without a helmsman wandering aimlessly on a dark sea.
Can I die tonight? Will you let me? I am the looked-for genius; the saviour. I am your true god and the weak men of your books are worthless idles.
Escape with me into the bleeding dark. Free my hand from my heart, to deliver the final blow.
Let me out, but lock me up.
Sacrifice my ideals for love.
Who am I to want for anything?
What is my self-inflicted pain to those who live a helpless reality?
Who am I to be me?
The gouging fingers tearing flesh from bone - the map of a thousand scars. Bulging veins as I scream silently to the night.
Ghosts of my past chasing the illusions of a future.
Pleasure, pain, torment, existence.
The broken damaged virgin - who do you want to be?
Lend me your hand - pull me out of hell.
Escape from the soul's eternal torment, to the mind's eternal peace.
Fingers of shadow licking at my heart's flame.
I'm trapped in a box in the corner of my brain, and someone's stolen the key. A bookmark on a one-way journey; a jacket of despair covering me on the road.
I wish I would cease to be.
Loved as the prodigal missionary of a bygone lover.
Save me from my selfish desires.
She is not mine and I cannot claim her heart. Her body is mine only in my dreams. Entwined together, our souls connect and we become one.
I cry out to the darkness - her wetness on my thighs and the taste of her tongue in my mouth. My brain tries to recreate her beauty, my hand the pleasure of her body. I die because I cannot have her.
Can you save me from myself?
The darkness is all around me, pressing on my thoughts.
What can I be me without fear?
A cynical depressive sharing an idealists' brain. The two halves of me fight in deadly battle - I know none will ever win.
I am a conundrum - unquantifiable.
Am I real, and what am I?
I'm scared to float alone, cast adrift without sails.
I need your help to survive the darkness - it's in my head and I can't hide anymore. It takes me from myself and carves it's imprint on my body. Leave me alone to weather the storm, but anchor me in a safe harbour.
Is it abnormal to take pleasure in pain - the masochistic joy of feeling your own blood on your skin?
Spending my life trying to be what I'm not - escaping to dark corners and avoiding the truth.
I hurt others by my madness - the sick, selfish desire to escape.
I want to be carried into the blinking light, but I depend on my beloved dark - my soul's careless addiction to the force which can destroy me.
I need to be stronger and try to fight, but waves crash incessantly on my head, and I can feel myself drowning.
I want to give-in and go peacefully, but conscience fights with me. My emotions are dueling with my rational - I'm forced to present my favour to the one which I don't want to win.
Laughter morphs into tears and euphoria becomes crushing damnation. Up and down in the hated incessant cycle. I want to stop but I can't.
All my muscles ache - particularly the one pounding in my chest.
Pleasure and pain are the same thing.
My body is a battlefield and I am heavily scarred.
Let me off the round-a-bout, take my nose from the grindstone.
One day I will be fearless and free; will I be happy?
When I have the power of self-determination, which path will I choose?
Heaven or hell?