This Enemy Mine

I, with my tortured memories,
Do sail along the turbulent shores
Of a violent sea of crimson blood
While riding along on a cold and rusty carousel
Of this, my life.
I travel the effervescent sea of my obsession here,
Which I find then flows
Into a calm and bitter tasting pool
Of sweet, sweet death.
I pause there briefly, for the most time allotted me,
To search for faces friendly,
Looking for past loves,
Finding there none to see.
Is a lonely, sad and piteous journey,
One made quite soon by all,
Closing ears to dying spirits...
                         Crying souls...
                                   Unloved hearts...

And as I sail along the troubled shores
Of this dark and misty sea of blackened blood,
I follow with fiercest need the music of my life,
As the carousel of time
Weaves intricate designs and celestial desires
Throughout this ephemeral, spiritual being
I dare not claim as mine own.
However, the constant stepping on, stepping off
Of this carousel bound for Hell,
Gives leave to an endless, careless desire to search...
To search for an exit...
              For a door...
                  For a life...
                        For something...
                                 Something better.

And yet there is a splendour during this time,
This time beyond all time,
That remains embedded and implanted
In the innermost recesses of my dark, insidious mind,
And that, God forgive me,
I will not...
Nay, I cannot...
Release!
Not from here...
        Not from this soul...
                      This spirit...
                               This enemy mine...