Nothing Comes Easy

I write these words, my screen is my canvas,
Broken thoughts streaming:
A dream that once was
A love that was lost
A casket of hopes
Drawn up in my own blood.

Another day lost, nothing was gained
Better written then spoken:
Whispers in the dark
Ink stained fingers
Transparency in narrative,
Driven mad by the insomnia.

Back at it again, no clarity has been given.
Sleep will not come,
Wallowing in life
Death seems so final.
My lips sign the contract,
For epiphanies are elusive.

And I sit, writing these words...
The screen is my canvas