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I awaken to the sacrilegious sounds of screaming sparrows.
I can hardly pry open my bloodshot eyes.
The morning sun drips cold and lonely into my veins
I can barely remember my name.
The stuttering sky is dark and dreary.

In the midst of my ancient, angst dream,
I try to shake the tree of life at its’ cemented roots.
Frightened of the next moment of thought,
I freeze in fear of dread of the dead.

Bloodied tears still bind me to their mist.
Glued to blind allegiance of ghostly hues,
staring into blistered mirrored soul
serving no one, God is squeezed from hope,
burning my will to survive.

This road of thorns is never easy
when one is stripped of love and legacy
when heart is torn from rib cage
when everyday is a test that cannot be passed.

Woodstock, New York
May 4, 2011