The Less and The Numb

You drew me inside

with the promise of danger,

all that I find

is the less and the numb.

The loss of sensation

has deadened the touch,

the thrill is all gone

you promised too much

and couldn’t deliver.

 

You said you would bring me the sun,

but you fell short of Venus.

So much is now left undone;

now what lies between us,

is disappointment

and one hundred million miles

of lost trust.

 

I am not the one

who said they were an astronaut.

I’m not the one who said that I could fly.

I didn’t come to you

with pathetic platitudes;

when it came time to rise,

you just laid down and died.

 

If there is an end to time,

this could be the beginning

of a whole new life,

of a new way of being,

but you’ve shortened your stride,

didn’t care for adventure

and you’ve sewn up your mind

you’ve squandered your treasures.

 

I can’t seem to wake you from this automation,

you’re running on wireless predestination.

I find myself endlessly fascinated

by the way your eyes go dull.

I’m screaming and shaking you,

hoping to wake you,

looking for any response at all,

but you’ve lost what once made you

I can’t seem to save you

when you let go

and fall.

 

I lost a friend once

to the fire in the sky,

to the codified transmissions,

to the light that burns the eyes.

I’ve been on the edge myself,

but kept my grip

and held on tight.

Don’t go quietly

into the darkness,

don’t go quiet

into the night.

 

Please keep up the fight.

 

HG – 2016