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mood |
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music |
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adventures in solitude- new pornographers |
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i have not been sleeping well. it's hard to when darkenss is filled with those from the tsalmaveth. seekers of something, yet nothing i can give. in the shadows they lie in plain sight, yet somewhat unseen. they crawl from walls and dark corners, i feel their skin on mine, their breath in my ear, i see their fingers seek. dark and child-like, who knows who they are, where they came from, or what they want. all i know is they stand in the darkess and watch me, coming close and drawing again far, disappearing and appearing, beckoning. morning brings no comfort, it seems strange to sit in this limbo, always moving between fear and depression, fear and depression, neither of which i understand, both of which consume me. i wish i could be swallowed whole and drown in them, to end this, when the phone rings unanswering, when the line clicks dead of those who see not what lurks, who feel not the peril, find their comfort in sleep. i am alone, the perfection of normality looms outside my grasp with taunting eyes and thick fingers. i am alone in the darkness, and in the light, where i remember only what will come when the sun falls.
oh, tsalmaveth, seek me not,
yet bony grasp draws tight in woe,
the shades of yesteryear my foe,
oh, tsalmaveth, seek me not.
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melancholy
hopeful
depressed
contemplative
sad