Heart of Darkness

Illusory woman, or the real thing?

Théâtre de Scribe, tome 6, page 248 - La Dame ...

I can feel the torment. Maybe a ghost.

She toys with my heart, beating uncertain.

Floating in space, drained by indecision.

Was she imagined? Only a figment?

Why does my pressured heart want to explode?

She makes my head hurt. I don’t understand.

I can’t change the past. Disease-ridden fool.

Impossible resolved, but not a clue.

Mystery woman. Pleonastic phrase.

It would take a true genius to answer.

Not me. The inflicted and conflicted fool.

She helped me spend a moment in the clouds.

Before they darkened for the thunderstorm.

The quick ascent always followed by “Boom!”

Sudden realities, hard to accept.

Sullen mortality, I’m not a god.

Or else I could hurl lightning and demand.

I need to sit down. I feel so dizzy.

Anxious. It seems like I can’t even breathe.

I can’t expel the demons I so fear.

The voices I hear, are they in my head?

Or are they people telling me the truth?

I am losing consciousness, like a dream.

A hollow heart, predisposed to shut down.


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