scorned lover

when thick darkness envelops the sky

i wait with my tired eyes and measured breath

for that sweet, fleeting illusion of peace and death  

i long for my brain to go all 

foggy and fuzzy and

dizzy and woozy

but 

sleep eludes me like a scorned lover

and my eyes just won't shut, won't listen

they show me those disembodied shadows  

lurking behind the curtains

ready to throttle me

and take my soul along 

to the raging fires of hell

and 

i burn

i suffer

i surrender

i die

and then 

i become the undead

haunting my very own earth   

in search of love and peace

for eternity

Aren't we all always a little dead inside? 

What's the point of living and hurting everyone when, someday, we all are going to die?