Yellow light through thin curtains –
dawn in a lonely cottage.
I can smell the wood of the floor, the rafters,
my senses sharper in the morning air.
A blissful moment,
not knowing who, or what, or where I am,
an instant of untrammelled thought, crystal clear…

Then memory returns –
a night of horrors, fear and darkness,
knowing that that which I fear is myself
yet unable to change to my nature.
How long? and for how much longer?
To endure this living hell, this pain, this torture:
I long to end it but cannot.

Reviling my revelry, my joy,
my soul feeds on dark desires and lusts.
I pray each night for the surcease of morning,
but pray each day for the release of night.