Random Lines, Etched Deep...

In the shady dusk of dawn,
I sit, cross-legged,
Head bowed,
Not in reverence,
Mere aloofness.

Is it this?

Or is it that?

....maybe, I need more time, more space...

Time seems still,
The clock static, dead.

The candle seems dying,
Flame bluish, cyanotic .

I count my toes,
One, two, three....
...nine and ten.

Wishing for a knife,
In the darkest of nights,
No cuts, no bruises,
Fair spotless skin,
My clean slate, to run my thoughts.

Ebbing blood,
Spotted stains,
Tainted soul, unleashed...

My thoughts take a spin,
And my eyes do a double,
Slipping away...

To sleep?
Ah! How silly, emotions could be?

Running loose,
All over,
And I know, harnesses no strong...

Is this what I meant to say?

Or is it yet another fake symbolic note?

Keep wondering,
As I do,
Often.

No, no! Not tonight...