I’m comfortable here,

sometimes too much so,

I lounge inside the pain,

let it wash over me.

I’m seldom inside

usually looking in,

wishing I might be

a part of some internal

masking of our lives.

I feel a churning

reality in my mind,

I always want to stop,

I want to give in.

Seems ill-fated

to all the time

wish for something

I just cannot have.

But I do,

my every breath,

hoping somehow

to find the key.

Even if its truth

is unattainable

in the mindset I use

to justify the means.