As the days go on, I find myself slipping further and further into myself. Although I show the world a different face, the scream building within obtains a little more of my psyche with each passing moment. I can but wonder at the fact that I may be like this until the end of days, when this body finally gives up this addiction to oxygen and begins a new journey as mulch. I still have dreams, and it seems, more and more, that they are all that is keeping me going though my meager existence.

In the end, I fear that my lethargy will conquer even the few hopes I have left, leaving nothing of my presence here except a leaf upon a corpse-tree. I will forever be statistic in the ever growing death-toll that is the world at large.

I was here, I consumed, I died.

This is not the dream I see when I close my eyes. Then again, I am not the man I see when I look upon the man accomplishing those momentous endeavors.

I am the pendulum.

Moods swinging back and forth from hope to despair in rhythm to the unending beating of my heart. Dreams & darkness; light and oblivion. To say that I am truly a Gemini would, to some extent, elaborate upon the condition with which I suffer.

I am alive, yet I am dead.

I gaze upon the world through a frosted over windowpane and I wonder what it would be like to participate in it, all the while hiding in the comfort of the cave which I have claimed as my own. To be so free as to run and play again; to be so free to let myself go. To be so free to let myself fall again; to be so free … to be so free.

…yet I am anything but.

My mind is my prison and I can not escape.