Disease Thought to Be Dead

All may have skeletons in closets
but mine are overflowing,
coming out from the cracks
more and more obviously showing,
me trying to hide it,
keeping others from knowing,
while the witnesses within
are at the point of crowing.

All the voices inside
this head ready to explode
are threatening to boisterously
and with a scene implode.
In order to stop it
I must exit this mode
but my heart won't tell
my head what is the code.

The time has already come,
the disease thought to be dead
is now back with a vengeance
as it all comes to a head.
The moment thought to be
a turn around instead
is the very one to destroy,
the destruction of a soul put to bed.

The Crack

Tilt your head a bit
to see the crack
that goes down your head
and down your back,
that rips you in half
with every step
that causes more pain
as you continue to schlep.
It's the journey that drains
your every fiber
with every circumstance
becoming ever more dire.
It's the moment you realize
how dead you are
and that your hopes
are just that far.
It's that very second
you see fate's face
that puts you back
into your too real place,
that instant where you
see no further escape
only to realize it is
because it's starting to cave
and it's at that point
in that fleeting flash
that you see it all come
down to the epic crash
and it is only in the face
of that moment in time
that you realize only
your breathing is a crime.

Circular Swirl

Round and round it goes
evading the grasp.
It goes down the drain
escaping hands and imagination,
unable to be gathered alas.
The pain is unbearable
as the insufferable anguish resides.
The moment goes down
in this circular swirl
on the most painful ride.
The drain consumes
what once so inspired
while a mind, the dreamer
who conceived the concept
is now too tired.
The concept so unique
is now so far gone.
Now also is drowned
any aspiration to continue
or want to go on.
The drain can eat
that which is wanted
while mind, body, and soul,
along with spirit and will,
will forever now be haunted.