my disease

Fourteen days has haunted my abstraction biding
me too mind taunting thoughts of conversion, as
I see through the ending perched near my spiritual
grounding

I so dance along the shadows chasing me into
a spiral of inklings condemning that I may lose
my mind before the thrid week could act as my
Cache beckoning the hollow sounds

Only as I dread the night before the day patiently
Waiting for my return there a still knock at the door
fore my heart bleeds over a old framed bed used as
a hideaway from the days haunting the imagination
I used to sleep, begging for surrender awhile wondering
where did I go wrong,leave me now my hands weigh heavy
over my words suited for the day I set myself free .