Nothing Good About Goodnight

Every night this feeling haunts me, every night the same old story. I don't want to stay awake, but i can't fall asleep. One too many i've bought an eyeful of slumber, that tonight doesn't feel right no longer. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. So they say. Now the body's frail, i feel it catching up on me. All i can afford to do is to stay right here and hide, but it sure as hell is suffocating me. This haunting reaching up to me, pulling me down with shackles locked upon my ankles. These claws are reaching out to tear me apart - engulfing my lungs, administering poison through my veins. Now they chew up my guts and spit it right back at me, dropping me off somewhere at 6 feet under and 2 foot wide. Still digging my way up, these hands painted with blood. Well painted i thought but then i soon realised all the washing and disinfecting could never get rid of these scarlet red stained hands, they never wash away. But what did you expect? I was never that pretty anyway, pretty fucked up maybe. Worth everything that i have, and trust me that's not much. But this feeling that haunts me all night long, that forces my heart to race, motherfuckin' priceless. Was that what they meant when they said, 'find something you love doing, and let it kill you'? Well too fuckin' late, im already dead.