Losing Myself

I talk to figures, to none
while I wander all alone
unclear intox-waves in my head
speak to a fragment
of my soul unknown.
The roads are clear-
on my way ahead
cluttered, with crowded matter
that run for better
while I'm still in quest
for beauties off it.

I draft stupid messages
to be reading all by myself
and hold the phone
close by my ears
waiting you to call;
the fragment the intox-waves
all till they fall
drive me to crazy lands
with sharp edges and vacant pleasures.

While the city screams and engine chugs
provide cover, I talk to you, read you stories
wishing you're by my side
to laugh at my jokes,
to deign to make love
till I fall asleep...
that part of my soul
clearly beyond my will
has tamed me tight
and I am losing myself.

I do things otherwise I wouldn't
I gettin weak a way I shouldn't
debauched into crazy trash
with nothing to gain
a fascimile of you -
stuck in my brain
predisposes it to unknown cancers
and replicating pain
smothering me and stretching me
to such lengths
I'm losing myself
I'm losing myself.