Written after listening to "Tool"

A stale mist hangs here
As a child it would've frightened me --
But any fear would've been diluted by the reassurance of it's absurdity
-----I wake up to it every day-----
Sleep brings no relief when you can't discern between the nightmares and this place you've inherited
-----This place is poison-----
Colors have seemed to've evaporated
It had to've been subtle or I never would've accepted it
Any feeling of levity is reminiscent
-----Sharp pain follows-----
Pain tries to accumulate and escape through tears
though they too seemed to've evaporated
-----My eyes burn-----
-----This is Hell-----

--I wrote this after watching the video for "Stinkfist" by Tool. If you get the chance - check it out...Tool videos are always kinda odd, even scary at times -- but I can never look away, lol. "Stinkfist" is kinda depressing - if you couldn't tell by the preceding...poetry I suppose you'd call it.
--I'll blog more later, I'm pretty tired now. Feel free to leave a message
-Ryan