google searching

The metaphors are old
overused
dry
dead.

ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh

every night i try to see
if the music will come through for me
it does
in spatters
it leaks in
then leaves me to die

ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh
ugh

i find myself google searching
empty pushing
always laughing
ever suppressing
life is daunting
no more chanting
i am panting
i am panting
i am panting

i long for touch
for songs, for dance
for movies that make me feel again
but the memories of tiny inklings of love
that seeped through the walls
of my bloodstained halls
seem to be all that's left
of the days when my heart beat
see the dead metaphors rise again
the days when my soul screeched
but it lived
it lived
my soul lived

Chanting
Chanting
Chanting

I'm not the only one suffering.