That beautiful tune...

It looks like the odds are against me, the beautiful tune keeps my consciousness reactive. But the addiction to the sickest drug keeps my blood stagnant. It didn’t matter how long it’s been, one dose and I was hooked again. I forget yesterday and the emptiness never filled but I never noticed anyway.

So when I hit it the heart stops. But sometimes I hear the thoughts of my pages and my mind’s caught, My eyes won’t open so I struggle because its what I sought.
I act crazy because my minds blown. I pick up the dry petals with each one reminding me of memories erased but never reported gone.

Is it normal cause the way I’m thinking is abstract, Should I blink twice or wince to see the facts? Focus my eyes and hence, catch on to realize if this is the past or present tense? I pick up my pen and try of think of the last spot known, but for so long the drug had hold that the inks dry for being so cold.

Things are getting hectic, I’m writing and writing but the words aren’t connecting. The pages are turning frantic but it’s all intercepted, the beautiful tune is back.
And as I fall into the beat it’s really this that makes me weak, it’s that beautiful tune that lets me sleep. Stirred up I look back and see, the wrong path treaded by none other than me. I see a reflection of a reflection of a reflection of a reflection. I can’t believe what I hear and what’s my perception.

The beautiful tune is gone and I’m left again. The pen at my feet again, the drug in my palm again, my blood seeking one more sin again. I didn’t see the life or death when I walked through the valley of emptiness. I hope for that tune to return so I can feel conscious. I’m the lyrics to your beat, the connection is because we blend perfectly.

I look back at the path and you should be there. In the mornings, in the evenings, you should be there. While you sleep I'll watch over you and bless you with my tears. Waking up in the morning unable to give you your dream is my fear.