Witching Hour

 

No, wait
let me light a cigarette and start again...

When the witching hour hits my home
and my love turns in for bed
the demons and the ghosts they roam
and find a place inside my head

Once more;

I am calm and alive
But only alive in the purest sense of the word
As in I am still breathing and moving and thinking
oh, how i think
up every night till 3 or 4 am
i have to wait for my eyes to cry and beg to be closed shut
when i am awake and my fingers are busy
and my brain is distracted
i can breathe and talk and work
but as soon as i lay my head down on those soft pillows
my brain awakes in the worst way
horrible flashes from my past
secrets i carry to my grave
i always tell myself that if someone ever asks me the right question
or approaches these horrible subjects in the right light
i will spill my heart out
but that is a facade
i can only empty my thoughts onto paper
or into this keyboard

my life has turned around drastically in the past year
but why did i have to go through all that turmoil
all that pain
and hurt
and abandonment?
circles
my life is circles
i go 'round and 'round
and nothing seems to get solved
because here i am again, at 2 am
waiting for my eyes to shut  

Written: Nov. 22nd 2011