My Four Walls

My Four Walls

The four walls always follow, just as existence is hollow

Dark cloud of melancholy is always tagging and nagging

Darkens the sky suddenly, does the curse living in my mind

One second to the next explosive-like action in reaction to happy

The future, a bottle on the sink or a table somewhere to drink

Takes the pain that has no vein until I know the night’s been in vain

To understand means imagination and that’s a torturous machination

Anger at weakness but utter fury that driving it is strength

Don’t be confused, for human beings it’s neither strange nor unusual

I can be both at once; the antidote is to reach for a bottle, of gin or ink

Better still ink then gin, to stagger away when thought is naught

This nihilistic chess, is an artistic cess, always a price to pay

How easy is revealing my soul when identity is firm

I know who I am, just not why

Suffering has its own perverse pleasure, such as the moment pain sighs

But there are no releases as the four walls always follow