I
see you and again, I am wanting you, loving
you, escaping with you into the once empty
space in my mind that has now been consumed
with you. Into the place I now call My Secret
Hell.
And Hell it is to be possessed with such
a longing that evades every unoccupied thought
as to try and cause me to try and fill them
with things of insignificance, or maybe
even something of enough importance to let
me dwell there long enough to get a relief.
And Hell it is, not to be able to explain.
Friends say I'm zombie like, with an empty
stare. They don't know its because I see
things they don't see and hear things they
don't hear. Why, they would just laugh at
me if I told them how I saw you smiling
at me from that big billboard on the highway
last night. And how just this morning you
were singing a love song to me on the radio,
the D.J. said so.
And Hell it is, when with an over run imagination,
I feel the fires of jealousy burn me, and
angry thoughts of revenge envelope me. But
then you are kissing me, and the fire in
my mind is cooled in comparison with the
fire in your lips.
And Hell it is, not to welcome sleep, for
sleep will only bring more vivid images
of what should be a reality, only to awaken
and relive them again and again.
And Hell it is, to be so close yet so far
from you, waiting for those few short moments
when I get to be close to you. Close enough
to rekindle the never ending Secret Hell
in my mind.
