I suppose "interesting" will do:
I can't quite call it "bad",
But perhaps "good" is too much of a stretch.
Where is the line, though,
Between asleep and awake?
What is pure subconscious dream,
And what is only longing?
Oh Lord, can I truly handle this?
This horrid taunting as I lay defenseless,
This violent imagery that wakes me shaking,
Knees up, eyes wide, breath caught...
Soaked and sweaty and shattered.
Dear God, what am I doing?
Am I living and breathing,
Am I existing and changing?
Could I be losing it all,
Or perhaps have I already?
I slide around in this pit of mud,
The cold and wet my only company,
Holding on to the spark of sunshine
That sears my skin and blinds my vision,
Yet it's all that I have.
I own nothing,
Not the clothes on my back nor
The drenched earth that encompasses me.
I can't be sleeping late like this-
I can't subject myself to such punishment.
Can I write it away insignificantly
As just an off night?
I do believe it's something more,
My desperate longing that's barely even secret.
I'm sure everyone knows, although not to what extent.