Breathing Underwater

They say that I’m not an ordinary man.

I awaken, trembling and drenched,

My thoughts have gotten the best of me.

These are dreams of ethereal visions,

 Of times we shall never see.

I drift.

My avarice, my lust.

I drift.

Insomnia, hysteria.

I speak to the voices; sometimes no one’s listening

Perhaps it’s all just a riddle

From the Mother of the Clouds.

She shakes and whimpers like an injured pup,

Her fragile womb expels the machines of darkness

Which will drain the colors from the world.

Let us be gray and simple again.

I’m late for the sky, but I don’t think that they will mind,

 I can drown for hours and still be breathing.

I’ve been ready to die since the day I was born;

On my first day God said, “This is Life.” 

I pleaded to Him, “Show me Death.”

I must now succumb to the beast inside my sacred temple,

As I lay my head to end the day,

To recognize: I am the meek, I am the shadow

In this vast and lonely universe

For this eternal requiem, I bow myself in prayer.

The feather of an angel’s wing,

Is not so lovely as the song she hums at dawn.

I am empowered by her gentle voice.

As she offers these last few handfuls of tears,

The pain of her eyes reflects in the rain.

 I can gaze into the skies, once again,

and know that I’m a little bit disturbed.