The Musings of My Mind

Month: March, 2015


Your voice echoes in my dreams.

The sound of your laughter haunts me

And finds me in each dream sequence

Making sure to remind me that’s the only place

It’ll ever frequent.

The sight of you is now fuzzy and gray.

It has disappeared in the restless fray,

Beside you and my heart…

Which are all along for the joyride

That continues to destroy the state of my being.

I feel you within me in some moments.

But in others,

You are what you’ve become

And that is when I unravel

And become undone.

Your voice…

It echoes in my dreams.

It slowly withers away

As the sun rises and dreamland fades,

New thoughts emerge,

But they drown in the waves of

Everything that depraves me

Of normalcy.

So I sit. And I wait.

For the sound of your voice

To romanticize my mind

Until dawns early light

Allows me to wake.

And you, yet again, manage to escape



“What does it feel like?”

“I think about that all the time. I don’t even really know how to answer that, though. I’ve heard it described as getting punched in the gut, but that’s not…that’s not how I would describe it. It’s just…a constant churning of sadness in the pit of your stomach. You don’t really notice it’s there because you go on about your life and your activities, but the second you even smell something that brings you back to that place, it’s over. Over time, you get the hang of it, but it’s a process. It just feels really bad, you know? Like, yesterday, there was a whole person there. They were alive and they were laughing with you, they were yelling at you and making you feel like shit, and out of nowhere, there’s this eerie silence that you can’t seem to understand. You know, you call them and call them and listen to their stupid voicemail because one day, they’re going to pick up. They’re going to tell you that it was all a really mean joke and they’ll be at your house in an hour. But that’s just the hope talking. I think there’s some self-hate in there too. Some sick need to torture yourself because if you actually loved yourself, you’d force yourself to face the truth.

“And what’s your truth?”

“I’m really sad. And I think that’s the only real feeling I’ll have for a while. “