Voice

Screaming in an impossibly effeminate voice,
angel and butterfly wings blur my vision.
Motionless and numb,
from standing too close to such desires,
as if life is swirling down,
falling through a blur of sweating rain drops.
Condensation pours down the disintegrating brick walls.
There are haunting sounds of ghosts screaming at the top of there powerless lungs. Hopeless effort,
for I have lost the ability to hear,
Lost in the scars of a thousand broken dreams.

Though tarnished and alone, I didn't really die that day.