I am too afraid to go to sleep at night,
realizing that God no longer speaks to me.
Sometimes I think that the longer I dream,
the closer I am to bringing his face back to me.
I can't remember what I gave it all up for.
Flickers of faces are forced to appease
a hollowing out of the core of me.
Each taste of a hallucination a tease,
I wake up as my lover falls asleep.
Happiness is the stuff of myths and lore.