Like An Upside Down Lawn Mower

i wake up
and a flash of sadness slides across the surface.

like kerosene
eyedrops.

gasoline ribbons
snake slowly across my eyes.

their metallic shimmer
stings and cuts
with every blink.

i am in pain today.

remedies lie scattered
on the shelves and the floor.

i reach a hand inward
but find nothing there.

nothing but
an empty ribcage,
and the reminits of a vacant storm,
long since passed.

tattered feathers of crushed angels
and fibers of dust, hover in the light,
blown in from only God knows where.

cracked fence boards and
brittle wood held together
by gravity alone.

i can feel the nothingness in my fingers.
i can feel it.
inside me.

it is light.

like warm sand.

like youthful fingers stirring
summer air.

it is familiar and welcoming.

and it knows my name
all too well.

once again, i find myself fighting to remember,
this affliction
is not my home.

dear God,
this is not my home.

Sometimes there are days when I watch it fall a part.
And sometimes there are days when I find pieces
behind the door,
that I didn't even know were missing.

Working overtime.

Building something.
Building nothing.

I tell ya...
sometimes I find myself
not only wanting help,
but really NEEDING it.

But most times you reach for that red phone,
it ain't even plugged in.

And you have to accept that help might never come. 

And that there's nothing you can do about it.

And that the only options are to
curl up and die
or pick yourself up...

and keep hammering away at the void.

Well, keep hammering away my friend.
There's not a minute to spare.

Grab the nails, kids.
Storm's a brewin'.