Sounds With No Directions. Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Your making sounds but I can't understand.
A mental block.
A child like depravity to endure.
Alluring are the thoughts of this lustful desire.
Only if that was all that was important.
Moans, groans, among the bitter November winds.
No warmth seems to come from this hearth.
No matter the kind of wood or how raging the fire.
A stye sets in once again and I can't see beyond that which is right in front of me.
Blinders set upon all the broken mirrors.
It is as if these predominant visions shouldn't be any clearer.
Certainty beyond any foretold fickle fate.
A destiny that is so jaded.
A laughing in the background that won't go away.
At first it brings about this dull pain.
Soon all harmony that has been previously enjoyed is now destroyed.
And the ringing starts as a buzzing buzz in the ear.
It makes you want to twitch.
An irritating itching with nothing to scratch.
A rusted door latch flapping and squeaking back and forth.
To which way does it really want to go?
Why are you asking me as if I should know?
To whom do you think your speaking to?
A rodent munching down in the back of your mind.
Surprise is but the wires that have long been disconnected.
Suspect is but unending prospect.
For this all is just another assumption in the whistling truth of someone elses' reality.
Am I to respond, am I to air acknowledgement?
Dare I say how wrong it would be to such mere mumblings.
Grumbling, as if the lion was soon to roar.
Well fine let it, lets see the mighty beast in all its glory.
Instead of whisper in the dark with absolutely no direction.
Not a single claim has been laid to the poisonous injection.
Yet I'm suppose to let the needle right into my skin.
Sure and while were at it give me a bottle of whiskey and bunch of pills.
Lets see which of three kills me faster.