THIS LIFE IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME

My feelings wash over me like waves
   of a sea.
I am pulled under.
I breathe in water.
Everything is growing dark.
I am drowning.
This is my life.
Not so much to put any hope in.
I am helpless.
I cannot even look after myself.
I hide in the dark.
I only cry in the rain.
This is my life.
I am a dead man walking.
Looking down a long, endless hallway.
It seems to go on forever.
Am I being paranoid?
Am I lying to myself?
Or is someone else?
Controlling me like a puppet hanging
   from strings.
This is my life.
None the worse.
None the better.
I am indifferent.
I just do not care.
I have had enough of everything.
Too many voices burning my ears.
Filling my mind.
From which I cannot escape.
Oh the noise is slowly taking me from
   lucidity.
I have become mute and moot.
I am of no consequence.
I found a home through the cracks
   in the floor.
No one noticed me disappear.
I dare say they would not have cared
   had they.
Separated, isolated, anti-social, that's me.
This is my life.
It's going to be the death of me.
This life.

SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY