That thought

There is pain that I try to hide away
and depths of despair denied and pushed
down into the gut of my ignorance
But it presses against my flesh
from within it pushes without rest

With the busyness of conscience and the weight of sorrows
how, how, how can I stand free?
But where would I lay, or walk or run or hide?
It is myself, always with me, that I despise

So could the peace of darkness be my rest?
Could unfeeling awareness swallow my woes
and those woes that I bestow on all who venture close?

Could I break that second's fear to plunge, to bleed
to strive for a last breath through the vice of a taut lead?
Peace? Love? Neither are present or satisfy. I have none of
these, just a desire, a need, a lonely lie

I have a cause, a purpose, a drug, a compulsion
I have an infestation of urges, whims and repulsion
a need to hold, to hug, to lie naked with a strangers face
to writhe in dirty, cold and meaningless embrace
to thrust and pull and kiss and nibble
to twist my thistle, to push and wiggle, to sweat and dribble
and grope and fiddle

When the beast lay within, it slumbered
it dozed, it sat tiredly, too humble to impose
but now hear him roar
see him rise up to destroy
to devour happy hours, to hunt down all joy

My selves and me, we thought we were free
we stood over the carcass of self with glee
we relished all that we could now feel and see
but we see death parading our heart's streets
and hope pulled along, in binds and on knees
this sun has set and light faded away
and shadows have become darkness where taunts laugh and play
no stars, no moon, no morning to come soon
sleep now, time to rest
lay down my head in quiet regret