My thoughts are in a dreary wasteland of distortion and despair. They wander for hours. Lost. Scared. Their throats are dry and quenched with thirst for something, anything to grab a hold of. Their only possession is the sand ground beneath nails. Who would have known they'd stray this far, to a desolate place of horror and anguish? Where a soul is rarely seen, yet shadows are cast in their path then quickly vanish. How do they survive this way? Barely hanging on like this. I want them to collapse and drown themselves. They're mine, yet out of control. They sap my energy and will, only to be used in this trudge through darkness. Sleep is the only comfort I find, Thoughts can relax and let me be. Then I awake and am forced to drone of again-dragging me along. Thoughts are blinded dragging me to a place that can only be worse.