Despair

Not very good, but here goes...

I lay awake
Staring at my ceiling
Thinking
Of nothing.
Then, rising slowly through
The black ooze of my mind
Come names.
Names, with which,
Come memories. Happy memories.

I can feel it
Bubbling up inside me now,
Like some hideous monster
From a child's nightmare
Ripping through me
Mind. Body. Soul. Heart.
Memories, once so dear to me,
Are ripped away by this force,
This inhuman emotion
Greedily devouring any last dregs
Of hope that I may have left.

It's overwhelming me now,
I can't keep it contained.
And yet, as I throw my head
Backward and scream my
Anger and mortality to the heavens
Only one thought remains.

'Dude, you have got to stop writing these poems'