I sit begging
filling with more hesitation
with every tear I spill.
Waiting for you to answer
I awake
what was experienced,
fictional?
What was the the question?
Why such conflict
in my own.

Lost in the world
not mentioning
immense
lament for the living.
For I lay here...
Screaming
in the ever after
I awaken once more.

Beads of sweat.
I peer down to the puddle
ever growing beneath me
noticing the red glint
off of the substance.
Lick the tips of my fingers
blood.
Searching for the wound
I scratch my head,
in utter confusion.
The color of my hand.
I fall asleep,
or what it seems.
 
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