Deathbed Not Even Your Own

Let me fall...
My burnt dry thoughts,
Like leaves...
I am..
- Falling...

Into my sole self of surrealism
It welcomes me once more...
Like flashes of kaleidiscopes of Life..
Ressurecting, - lethargic..

Yet this deathbed awaits...
Leaving me dry
Sucked out of sweetness...

There I see
My constellation wavers...
Here, I lay dead...
Death's cold hands
Numb upon me...

Sighs of Lilith cold
I lay in this deathbed...
Of hot coals, dried thoughts...
- Dried soul..

I pity you, soul...
So unfortunate...
..In this hellish abyss..
Stabbing, bleeding me dry..
- I can not be as I am...
Wanting, wishing
While I see my sole surrealistic world
I so longed for...
..outside...
'Neath trees and ocean's breath...
---yet, I pity you, soul...
Enslaved in a deathbed
Not even your own...